Be careful what you wish for
by happierhere
Summary: Not your ordinary de-aging fic. Somehow Snape turned himself into a four-year old. Hermione's only task is to make an antidote, but along the way Snape Junior attracts her attention. He isn't the scary man she thought he was...
1. Chapter 1

**Title: ****Be careful what you wish for  
Author: happier_here**

Rating: M  
Book: Harry Potter  
Pairing: Severus Snape – Hermione Granger. Friendship.  
Summary: Not your ordinary de-aging fic. Somehow Snape turned himself into a four-year old. Hermione's only task is to make an antidote, but along the way she meets the tiny version of her scary Potions Master… and starts to like him.

Author's Notes: Parts 4-5 & epilogue will be up soon.

Slightly AU from book 6. Dumbledore wasn't sure of Slughorn's alliance. He hired Shacklebolt as the new DADA-teacher and Snape remains the Potions Master. He however has his own project…

Of father's and daughters is currently put on the backburner. It's a huge project (I basically plan to rewrite books 6-7 with a mentally stronger Harry (with Sirius' support), Dumbledore having to rewrite all of his plans, the students making their own plans and Snape coping with both a daughter and a disability), so it will take some time… bear with me .

* * *

**Be careful what you wish for**

Although it was a cold January day, the sun warmed Hermione on their first Hogsmeade trip of the year. Harry and Ron were in front of her, chattering away and enthusiastically acting out famous Quidditch scenes. Walking next to her was Ginny. The young girl bumped her in the side with her elbow getting her to notice the way she rolled her eyes dramatically at the boys' antics. She grinned back at her, which was rather difficult as she was also nibbling away at her freshly bought Sugar Quill. Closing the ranks, Neville was giving Luna a crash course on several Herbology subjects the blonde had been grappling with.

Surrounded by her friends in this way, she couldn't help but come to the conclusion today was a great day. Off course, her good mood was also caused by the absence of Lavender Brown. Her roommate who was also Ron's girlfriend had decided to accompany the teacher/fraud Trelawney on a tarot card-buying expedition.

She snuck a glance at Ron, who was balancing on one leg and pretending to reach for a snitch. Their friendship had survived yet another test that year. She had been jealous beyond reason when the two of them became a couple. She still didn't like the way they showed their bond: often and very physically. She hadn't however let her hurt feelings destroy their friendship. During the holidays she had sent Ron a letter along with his Christmas present, apologizing for sending the conjured birds at him. He in return had only sent his usual present of candy. She had been sad about that, until she had touched Weasley-family present. Ron had jinxed the sweater to jump and engulf her in a hug. It had scared the living daylights out of her parents, but it had showed her something she had subconsciously known before: she would always want Ron in her life.

"Let's go to the Three Broomsticks." She suggested out loud. "I'll buy you lot a drink."

Minutes later they were all sat around a table in the tavern, butterbeers in hand. Harry proposed a toast, smiling widely: "To Hermione, our generous friend."

"Not that I'm complaining about a free drink," Ron spoke, his usual blunt self, "but, what's the occasion?" His eyes suddenly widened in shock: "It isn't your birthday, is it?"

While Hermione rolled her eyes, someone (probably his sister) stomped on his foot.

"It's just a beautiful day." Hermione said. "We should celebrate those while we can."

The meaning behind those words, _war is coming,_ was usually enough to suck the cheer out of any room. Off all Hogwarts students, the six of them actually knew how it felt to fight. They knew how bad it already was and how much worse it could become. The scar Dolohov caused on her torso started to itch.

The look in Harry's eyes hardened, Neville shoulders shuddered slightly and Ron looked away. For a second Hermione feared she had ruined the day.

Ginny interrupted the silence by determinedly stating: "Yes, we should."

They all toasted anew, a bit less exuberantly than before. Ron then produced a packet of cards. Although Hermione usually felt too old to be playing Exploding Snap, she joined in. They all needed the distraction.

They played excitedly until Kingsley came to remind them they had a curfew. Hermione smiled at Kingsley, or as they were supposed to call him in public: Professor Shacklebolt.

She realized that not only had it been a very good day; it had also been a pretty good year up until now. Dumbledore had finally appointed a decent Defense against the Dark Arts-teacher. Kinsley, as a member of the Order, was clearly on their side. They wouldn't have to worry about him trying to hurt Harry or other students. He wasn't incompetent and was a decent enough teacher to make sure everyone learned how to defend themselves. He also presided over the DA, which was now a real club, and used that time to teach them spells and hexes that weren't on the official programme.

Kingsley had also created several emergency procedures for the students to follow when the Castle was under attack. When the alarms rang, all students were to retreat into the rooms that were warded against intruders. This, combined with decent defense lessons and the fact that there were Aurors stationed in Hogsmeade, made Hogwarts a very safe place.

Hermione knew off course, that they were never completely safe. The attack on Katie Bell had been a painful reminder. Dumbledore's cursed hand was another.

The Headmaster had also been giving Harry special lessons, which Harry passed on to them. She had been horrified to hear about the Horcruces. How any man could shatter his soul like that, was beyond her reasoning. Voldemort was pure evil, but at least they now knew how to fight him. And fight him and his Death Eaters, they would.

In the meanwhile it was nice to just go to class and be proper teenagers: there were no trolls to fight, no basilisks to fear. No one had unearthed an ancient deadly competition and the Ministry wasn't out to change the entire curriculum. Instead Harry and Ron could play Quidditch to their hearts desire and she and Ginny could talk about boys until their throats hurts. Harry had even stopped having those awful dreams.

Yes, she decided with a smile on her face when they neared the castle, this year was a perfectly normal and very nice year.

She shouldn't have jinxed it.

* * *

The following Monday during breakfast, the Headmaster rose to give an announcement.

"It is my sad duty to inform you that until further notice Professor Snape will be unable to teach his classes."

He was interrupted by the loud cheering of the second year Gryffindors, who had him that morning. Professor McGonagall jumped out her seat and actually ran over to her students to chide them for their inappropriate behavior. Several points were taken away. Hermione grimaced. For her normally stoic teacher to respond in that way, something terrible must have happened.

Headmaster Dumbledore was still upright, but seemed to be waiting for Professor McGonagall to return before continuing his announcement. His eyes were missing their normal twinkles.

Hermione looked at her friends, who had responded to news in the same manner as her. Since they no longer took Potions and Snape could no longer torture them in class, their spite towards the man had softened. They too had noticed the strange behavior of the other teachers, who looked sad (or angry at their celebrating students). Harry nodded towards Madame Pomfrey's empty chair.

"Do you think he's been... incapacitated?" he asked softly. Only the three of them and Ginny knew that the Professor was also a spy for Dumbledore. An infinite number of things could have happened to him. They didn't like the man, but none of them wanted to see him become another victim of this war.

Dumbledore answered for them. "Due to a set of contaminated potions ingredients, Professor Snape has contracted a serious illness: the Amazonian Red Fever. Madam Pomfrey managed to stabilize his fever. He is now in a coma." He paused for a moment, hesitating which words to use. "It is uncertain when..." His voice broke. "or even if he will wake up."

Everyone in the Great Hall fell silent. A few young girls of Slytherin House even started crying for their Head of House.

"Professor Sinistra has agreed to be the ad interim Head of Slytherin House." A weak applause rose from the tables. The Astronomy teacher nodded at her new charges. "Potion classes will be suspended until I find a suitable replacement."

He waived his hand to signal the end of the announcement, before disappearing through the main door. Breakfast was over, but none of the teachers stood to usher them out of the hall and into the classrooms. They knew the news had to be discussed first. Students cluttered together in small groups to discuss the news.

Hermione, Harry and Ron walked together to their first class.

"So what do you think?" asked Harry. "Real accident or is Dumbledore hiding another attack?"

Hermione startled. She had taken the announcement at face value, but realized Harry had a point: this could be the aftermath of another attack.

"Poisoned ingredients?" She asked. "But who would want to hurt Snape? They think he's on their side." _They_ were off course the Deatheaters.

"Snape makes the healing potions for Dumbledore's hand. Maybe the attacker wanted to poison the Headmaster and Snape just got in the way."

Hermione blinked at him. "Why wouldn't they warn Snape then?"

Harry shrugged. "Maybe they don't trust him anymore?" Hermione glared at him. It was Harry who didn't trust Snape. He still blamed him for Sirius' death, which was a bit unfair if you asked her. Snape had passed on Harry's cryptic message, what more could he have done?

"I don't know, Harry." Ron said, acting as the voice of reason. "He who must not be named thinks Snape's his spy, he wouldn't just sacrifice him for another half-assed attempt on the Headmaster's life."

Harry shrugged again. "Maybe he is just sick," he conceded. "The timing just seems strange to me."

They didn't discuss it further, but the subject kept troubling Hermione. It seemed strange to her too, that the Professor was being beaten by a disease, however exotic. Maybe it was the silly rumours of him being a vampire, but the fact that he wasn't actually immortal, was throwing Hermione for a loop.

She was concerned. The Order was now one spy short. The school was missing a valuable teacher: the curriculum would suffer and so would her test scores, because no one in the UK was a better Potions Master than Snape (she'd checked). A tiny part of her however was worried for the man himself.

She wondered about that. Why did she care about the man who had insulted her teeth and took every opportunity to mock her and her friends? Or did the worry stem for the respect she had for him as a teacher?

She really liked his NEWT-classes. He still acted like a git and pretended they were all stupid little children but he also taught them loads of interesting stuff. He even let them experiment a bit and talked about potions that were not in their textbooks.

With Harry, Ron and Neville gone from the classroom, she had more time to concentrate on her own work. Her skills were vastly improving: without exaggerating she was the best Potions' student in the class. Even Snape had noticed and stopped insulting her incessantly. That, or without Harry by her side she no longer suffered collateral damage...

The boys' dreams of becoming Aurors had been devastated when they had received their OWL-grades. In a desperate attempt to cheer them up (and to not be stuck with their gloomy selves during the summer holidays) she had checked the educational rules and had found that they could take the NEWTS without having followed the classes. It unfortunately meant she now spent many of her free hours tutoring potions. There was an upside: in exchange the boys had stopped asking for her help in all other subjects and she got even better in potions than before.

With a sigh she cleared her mind and waited for the teacher to start his lesson.

Professor Matthews, formerly Mr. Matthews the apothecary, was considered a brilliant potioneer. He was a terrible teacher however. In a complete role reversal with Snape, he seemed to fear the students. He stumbled his way through his first few lessons and for a moment, Hermione thought he would learn. Then the fourth cauldron in two days exploded and the sixth student landed in the infirmary. Scared he made the decision to give up practical lessons and only teach theory.

Only the sixth and the seventh years got to brew. Off course, he also took no chances there. Hermione glared at the boiling Stain Removing Potion she had mastered in fourth year. Her fellow students were annoyed as well. She even shared a look of dissatisfaction with Malfoy, which surprised them both.

* * *

The next two weeks flew by quickly. To no one's surprise, Mr. Matthews returned to his apothecary. He did however agreed to correct the essays that were now set weekly, so no one would fall behind. The fifth and seventh years had sporadic brewing sessions, supervised by Madam Pomfrey and Headmaster Dumbledore himself, so they could practice for the OWLS and NEWTS.

Hermione didn't like the essay questions he assigned. Most answers could be copied straight from the book. She didn't mind the lack of practical lessons though, thanks to her tutoring session in the Room of Requirement she could brew whenever she wanted.

She did miss Snape's additions. Without his presence, Hermione could only follow the manual's instructions. Snape always added his own corrections or suggested interesting substitutions. He also got them to think about what they were doing and why they were doing it. Without him present, brewing lost a large part of its challenge.

She and her friends were studying Herbology together, when Professor McGonagall entered the Common Room and summoned her. She was lead to the Headmaster's office.

"Plum Pudding." Her Head of House told the gargoyle, before turning to Hermione. "He's waiting for you." It was clear she wasn't planning on joining them.

Hermione ascended the stairs with a rapidly beating heart. She had no idea why she was needed in the Headmaster's office. Was she about to get bad news about her parents? So far only Ministry employees and known Order members had been targeted, but it wasn't that unlikely that the Death Eaters would start targeting Muggleborns and Muggle parents.

Dumbledore took one look at her face and guessed what she was thinking. Or maybe he read it from her mind… He quickly strode towards her so he could put her mind at ease.

"Oh dear, I should have told Minerva to give you a head's up. I don't have bad news for you, Miss Granger. In fact, I have a favor to ask of you."

She stared at him in relieve, quickly followed by disbelieve. He chuckled. "Perhaps a cup of tea before we talk business." He all but pushed her into a comfy pink chair. Before she could wave away the concern, a House Elf popped in with two steaming mugs.

While she was sipping her tea, she took in the unusual office. Fawkes, the Phoenix, was dozing on the back of Dumbledore's seat. The Sorting had lay crumbled on one of the many cabinets and bookshelves that lined the office's walls. They were all filled with interesting but unfamiliar artifacts. Her fingers were almost itching with the desire to go exploring.

"I'm ready." She said instead.

Dumbledore put away his own mug and rose. "Let's talk in the infirmary."

She was confused, but she followed her Headmaster obediently. When they arrived she noticed that curtains were drawn all around one of the beds. She knew it was Professor Snape's sick bed. There had been several students who had snuck into the infirmary on a dare to check up on their hated Professor. They all said that he looked terribly sick and pale.

"You probably don't know this, but next to all of his other duties, Severus also brews the potions for the infirmary."

Hermione nodded. It made sense not to buy products when you had your very own expert nearby.

"As he is now incapacitated, we are in need of a new brewer." He looked at her and she faltered.

"Me?" She asked incredulously.

"Yes, you are the best Potions' student. Even Severus himself admitted you were improving steadily."

She felt her cheeks redden. She knew she was a good student, but to be trusted with this kind of responsibility was immensely flattering.

"Off course I will."

Dumbledore smiled at her and then spoke: "Did you hear that, Poppy? I've found you a new brewer."

Hermione turned around to face the Matron. The elder woman was smiling at her, an expression she had not seen before.

"I'm sure you'll do a great job, dear." She said. "I'll send you a list tomorrow."

Hermione nodded proudly. Dumbledore looked at the Matron's hands and saw that she was holding a vial. "Is it time for his potion already?" He asked. The Matron nodded.

"Perhaps we should give Miss Granger an opportunity to visit her professor."

The Matron nodded again, which Hermione found peculiar. Normally the headstrong Healer refused to let anyone see her patients without a good excuse. Then there was another thing to consider: she wasn't sure she wanted to see her Professor in such a vulnerable state. Both her superiors had already disappeared behind the curtains and she had no choice but to follow them.

The rumours were right. Snape looked awful. It was with great difficulty she managed not to cringe.

"Ah yes. The Amazonian Red Fever, a terrible disease." Dumbledore spoke. "The victim suffers from numerous fever attacks. The organs overheat and malfunction. Sometimes they become irreparably damaged. All the Healers can do is treat the symptoms and try to lower the fever until the body defeats the infection itself."

Hermione was surprised that the man, whose voice had cracked with emotion when he had made the announcement of Snape's sickness, was now describing his sickbed calmly, almost clinically. Madam Pomfrey pitched in.

"That is why we have to administer several potions every hour. A Blood Replenishing draft to strengthen the immune system, a Calming potion to keep the mind at ease, Healing potions for the lungs, liver,... The list is very, very long."

A enchanted bell next to the bed chimed softly. "Time for this potion."

Dumbledore smiled and extended his arm. "We'll take care of it." The matron handed him the vial. He then took out his wand, waved it between the two of them and whispered "Mufflatio."

Madame Pomfrey immediately lifted her hands to her ears and glared at the Headmaster. "I'll be going then!" She said rather loudly. "Don't forget to call Winky to take the night shift!"

Hermione turned to Dumbledore in her confusion.

"Do not worry." He said. "I simply cast a Silence spell. We can talk freely now, all anyone in our vicinity will hear is a ringing noise in their ears."

She wondered what Dumbledore would tell her that was so secretive. "We should give him his potion."

"No. I'll think we'll wait." The Headmaster spoke calmly.

Hermione panicked. Why was Dumbledore acting so strange? Did he want to kill Snape? What would his body do? Go into a seizure? How was she supposed to treat that? And would Dumbledore stop her?

Snape's body started shaking softly. She tried to reach for him, but Dumbledore grabbed her hands. Before her eyes, Snape transformed into someone else.

"What?"

The Headmaster opened the vial in his hand and held it under her nose. "Do you recognize this?" he asked. The smell was very familiar.

"Polyjuice. So this isn't Professor Snape?" So where was he? And why all the smoke and mirrors?

"No it is not. This is Arman, a Romanian colleague of Charles Weasley. He unfortunately _is_ infected with the Red fever." The compassion that Hermione had missed in his voice before was now present.

"Before he fell ill, he became a member of the Order. His brother has allowed us to use him as a cover. It is very important that Voldemort thinks Severus is incapacitated and does not call him through the Mark."

To stress his words, he gently fed the potion to Arman. The body shifted back into the shape of Professor Snape.

"Is he on a mission?" It was the most likely explanation: Dumbledore had sent his spy to find the Horcruces.

He shook his head sadly. "No, unfortunately Severus too is incapacitated. It was a potion's mishap. It is why I must ask a third favor of you."

"Third?" She was confused, again. The headmaster had only asked her to brew, hadn't he?

"Severus has only left us with a limited supply of Polyjuice potion. Someone will have to make a new batch."

She nodded. "Consider it done."

The Headmaster smiled mischievously. "I have no doubt that you will be able to brew _that_ particular potion."

Hermione blushed. She had been sure that no one knew about her Polyjuice problems in second year. Professor McGonagall had assumed she had been trying to achieve an Animagusform and had lectured her severely. Since the denial of that offense would have been the confession of theft and illegal brewing, Hermione had had no choice than to let her teacher believe her own story.

"As for the third question. Perhaps it is easier to show you the problem." The smile and the eye twinkle disappeared again. He took out his wand again and warned her: "I'm taking the spell away. Please don't speak about this situation until we arrive at our destination."

As soon as he had lifted the spell, he called for Winky and instructed the Elf to look after the patient. Then he turned to Hermione and said: "I will take you to Professor's Snape private lab now. There you can brew the necessary potions for the infirmary."

Hermione only nodded and followed the Headmaster. Although the constant moving about and evading answers was annoying her, she couldn't help but marvel at his secretive skills. If anyone had been listening to their conversation, they would only have gotten a reminder that Snape was sick. The doddering old fool act, was just that, an act. Now she understood how he had won wars before. He had cleverly provided her with an alibi for her secret mission. Even if someone caught her brewing the Polyjuice she could lie and tell them it was for the Infirmary.

They stopped at a painting not so far from the Great Hall.

"This is it." He spoke to the farmer depicted in the painting: "Borage." The man nodded and the frame flipped open to reveal a potions lab.

"But we're not in the dungeons." Hermione said surprised.

"Severus' chambers are on different floors and connected with stairs. Directly beneath us are his private chambers and underneath that are his office and the classrooms." He walked over to what appeared to be a hole in the wall. "Accio Fluxweed."

A container full of Fluxweed flew up into the room. It was a brilliant system, Hermione thought. If their was an explosion, the rest of his stocks and possessions would be protected.

"I do think you will be able to work here." Dumbledore noted.

"Oh yes, sir." If it was up to her, she would start immediately. The lab was absolutely brilliant. It was obvious by the lay-out and the instruments gathered, that this was the work place of a true professional.

"The password is _Borage_. I don't need to tell you to keep it a secret?"

"Off course not, Sir." She wouldn't do anything to risk working here.

"Unfortunately I will also have to ask you to keep your assignment a complete secret. If anyone asks, you are only working on the potions for the Infirmary."

The serious tone of his voice and the emphasis on the word anyone made Hermione ask to clarify. "Harry and Ron?" She understood the need for secrecy, but Harry had shared the Prophesy with them and it seemed a betrayal to keep things from him.

"Them too. Besides you, only me, Minerva, Poppy and Arabella know the truth about Severus' condition. I want to keep it that way."

Hermione reluctantly nodded. There wasn't much else she could do. She now was really curious about the reason for Snape's disappearance. And Arabella? Did he mean Arabella Figg? The squib that lived near Harry? Why her?

Dumbledore moved over to the doorway near the transport-hole. "Rosemary."

Stairs appeared. "I think it is best if I show you what happened to Severus."

Hermione remembered from his earlier explanation that those stairs led to Snape's private rooms. Not without some nerves she descended behind Dumbledore. She quickly looked around, not wanting to get caught staring at her professor's stuff, but not able to help herself either. The rooms weren't dark and gloomy as most of the students, including her, suspected. He did have a dark green leather couch and a black leather chair, but due to their position to the fireplace, they looked warm and inviting. The wall to her left was plastered with books. On her right there was a little kitchenette with a table and some chairs. In front of her were two doors. She assumed they leaded to his bath- and bedroom. Dumbledore entered the right one.

She had no choice but to follow him. Her mind didn't even have time to conjure up a image of his bedroom, it was far to busy imagining the vile ways Snape would kill her when he found out her latest offense. Maybe he could just forgive her for trespassing in his inner sanctum, but actually seeing his _bed_? She was dead…

Whatever she could have made up, the room she saw, wasn't it. A bed with purple and pink covers was pushed next to the wall. She gaped at it, until she noticed an elderly lady sat in a reclining chair, reading in a book. Arabella Figg she presumed. Off course, her bed… Miss Figg greeted them heartily. Hermione managed a wave, feeling awfully confused.

Then she noticed that there was another part of the room, separated from their with a long dark blue curtain. Dumbledore gestured that she look past it. She could help but brush her hand over the curtain. It was beautiful, little stars were woven into the fabric and she thought she could see them glistening.

Behind it stood another single bed. In it lay a cute, four year old boy, who was softly snoring.

"Professor Snape has a son?" Her mind caught up with her as soon as he finished speaking.

"Dear Merlin!" She gasped. Snape had turned himself into a small boy!


	2. Chapter 2 : Meeting the kid

Hermione felt her knees buckle. The Headmaster stood behind her, ready to catch her if she needed it. She refused to fall.

"I think we could both use some tea." This time Hermione didn't feel the need to argue.

He waved down Ms. Figg who had risen to go to the kitchen. He led Hermione to the kitchen himself, signalled her to sit on one of the wooden chairs and busied himself with the kettle and three mugs.

Hermione had never seen any of her teacher's engage in such a domestic task. She briefly wondered why he didn't just call a House-Elf. He probably wanted some time to gather his thoughts. Her own mother always did chores when she had a puzzle to solve. Hermione preferred pacing.

She tried to make sense of the facts she had gathered that day. By the time Dumbledore had prepared them tea, her internal monologue had gotten no further than: 'My Potions Professor is now a little boy.'

"I'm afraid Severus does not have sugar in his quarters." After bringing the third cup to Ms. Figg, he settled down on the chair across Hermione.

"Where should I begin?" He asked.

"He's a child?" Hermione was very thankful Dumbledore didn't laugh at her squeaked out question, but nodded solemnly.

"He took an potion he created himself. We had hoped that the effects were temporary, but unfortunately there has been no change."

Hermione nodded. She now understood why she was here. Stuck in a four-year old body, professor Snape would have considerable troubles with brewing. His mental capacities would be diminished as well, because children's brain worked differently than that of an adult. She would have to do all the work, supervised by a four year old Snape. That should be interesting...

"He needs help to create an antidote." She concluded out loud.

Dumbledore shook his head. "We need you to create an antidote. Severus does not only possess the body of a child, but he has truly regressed to his fourth year."

Hermione was baffled. That was simply impossible! Aging-potions, like Polyjuice or Animagus potions, create an illusion. Only the body is changed, never the mind!

"That can't be."

"Severus is known to adapt known potions or even to invent new ones. If it didn't put all of us in such an awkward position, this would be a serious magical breakthrough."

"How can you be sure that he truly is four years old again? Perhaps his brain hasn't formed the right neural pathways to his memories yet?" She was grasping at straws and she knew it. But to have someone actually return to his fourth life-year was very hard to imagine indeed.

"When I found him, I had the same idea as you did. I attempted Leglimency in order to connect with his mind directly, but all I found was a scared child who went to bed one morning and woke up in a strange lab the next."

That poor, poor child, Hermione thought, surprising herself that she had already adapted to the idea. But she could empathise with the feeling of being tiny, lost and scared. When she had been five and visiting her sick grandfather in the hospital, she had managed to wander off. She still had dreams of desperately trying to find her granddad before he died.

"He thinks his mother is sick and that he has to stay with his Uncle Albus for a while." He gave her a sad smile. It wasn't that hard to imagine him as someone's favourite uncle.

"You changed his memories?" She asked. Harry had told her how Kingsley Shacklebolt had made Marietta Edgecombe think there had only been one DA-meeting last year.

"No. I showed him this ..." He silently Accio'd a framed picture from the fireplace's mantle. "And told him his mother asked me, her favourite Uncle, to take care of him."

In the picture a slightly younger Dumbledore posed next to an plain looking, black-haired girl who held up a trophy. Dumbledore patted her shoulder and she look up to him and smiled. The banner above their heads read 'European Gobstones tournament'. It was an image of a proud Headmaster praising one of his accomplished students, but she could see how it could be interpreted as a paternal gesture.

"Back to the business at hand. Will you help us?" Dumbledore asked, after he levitated the frame back to its original place.

"Off course I will. But…" She truly wanted to help, but she had no idea how she was going to manage it. "Aren't there people more qualified to do this? Like Mister Matthews?"

"It's imperative that no one finds out what has happened. We need someone we can trust on this, preferably someone with links to the Order. You'll need to go through his notes, find out what you can about his research."

She nodded. If professor Snape had created advanced potions, it wouldn't do for Voldemort and his Death Eaters to find out about those. Even access to good Healing Potions could be an advantage during a war. So outside Potions Masters were out.

"There must be someone in the Order with more experience that me?" She asked.

"Me, Madame Pomfrey, Molly Weasley and those with an Auror training are well versed in making Healing Potions. Some of us even understand the basics principles of brewing, but re-engineering a potion... That is beyond our knowledge."

So they looked at a seventeen-year old to do it for them? The look in her eyes must have betrayed her disbelief, because the Headmaster leaned forward and gently grasped her shoulder.

"Hermione, I would not ask this of you if I did not have the utmost confidence in your abilities. Even Severus has admitted on occasions that you are, and I quote: 'not without any talent'."

They shared a smile. While it was nice to have confirmation that Professor Snape recognized her skills, she still doubted she could finish this project on her own.

She'd try though.

* * *

A month later, nothing much had changed. At least it seemed so to most of the students. They went to classes daily and were rewarded with points or punished with detentions. In the weekend, they flew around on their brooms or did other things to avoid doing their homework.

They were slightly miffed by the announcement that Dumbledore had found a real replacement for Snape, as the essay assignments had been really easy. Professor Slughorn was deemed an all-right teacher soon, not very strict. He did refuse to become the Slytherin Head of House, a position he had before Snape had replaced him. Most students excused this, pointing out his old age. The Slytherins themselves didn't really care, Professor Sinistra was a good enough substitute and let them plot in peace.

Harry however took offense. Dumbledore had asked him to help convince Slughorn to return to his old teaching post. Hermione had been forced to hear the story of 'that cowardly pratt of a teacher hiding himself as a sofa' many times. Usually Ron interrupted him, claiming that he shouldn't nag because Slughorn had let the two of them back into class. Harry then countered with the complaint that Hermione still had to brew all the potions for the infirmary by herself.

At that point Hermione always shrugged and said she didn't mind, really. She could hardly blame Slughorn for something Dumbledore had orchestrated. To balance her responsibilities and her schoolwork, Headmaster had awarded her the status of student-healer so she could miss classes in order to brew and research. Some of her classmates had complained about this: they were jealous of the fact curfew no longer applied to her.

After her first skipped lesson, Professor Sprout had simply told her to stop coming indefinitely and to write essays on all the plants she used as ingredients instead. Professor Flitwick did the same and even withheld homework, as he was sure she would pass the exam with flying colours. When she told McGonagall, the only one she could ask to help when she needed another set of hand during the brewing process, about this, the elder woman wasn't surprised. She told Hermione that the four Heads of Houses had been working together for about fifteen years. They felt responsible for the school, the students in it, but also for each other. Hermione had realised that her teachers weren't only colleagues, but friends as well.

The support and the time it created, were necessary for Hermione. The research on the unknown potion, that she had dubbed the 'Regression Potion', went excruciatingly slow. The most important reason for the delay, was that she spent most of her time brewing the other potions. The medicinal potions were perhaps only her cover, but she still needed to brew regularly them for Fake-Snape Arman's health. She also started several batches of Polyjuice, as they couldn't afford to be without.

The second, more frustrating reason was the utter lack of documentation Snape had left behind. In the lab she had discovered several series of notebooks. In those he always documented every step of his research, obsessively so. Not for this potion however. She thoroughly searched the entire room, but could not find one scrap of parchment with something of interest written on it. He had also cleared away his desk, so she didn't even know which ingredients he had used. It cemented the fact that it had been a top-secret potion, but it did make her job even more difficult.

Testing the potion for its ingredients was boring and time-consuming, but she had no other choice. Dividing the Regression potion in two batches, one to keep and one to experiment with, she had began her task with the patience of a saint. She used a different tests, hoping to identify one ingredient by the reaction it had with others. There were 127 possible tests, she had already performed 67 and found 4 possible ingredients… It would take a while longer.

And then there were several magical ingredients you couldn't test for, like Phoenix tears or Unicorn hairs. Another complication was the matter of preparation: the order of adding it to the brew, the heat of the fire, the rotation used in stirring… Even if she knew all the ingredients he had used, she would still have to brew all the possible permutations. It was a daunting task.

In order to narrow the field, she had started to read through his older notes. She hoped to find a clue, a certain type of potions he was interested in. She found that and much more. His notebooks were not only records of the potions he brewed himself, but also a collection of correspondence with other Potion Masters and articles copied out of publications. The pages were filled with vicious remarks, scribbled in the sidelines. He spared no one, even his own brewing mistakes were disparaged.

In a way it was amusing, some of the insults made her laugh out loud. Somehow reading those pages seemed more like an invasion of privacy than being in private rooms had been. In a way, it was like reading the man's diary. For instance, last year after Mr. Weasley had been attacked, Snape had started to work on antidotes for snake venoms. A few years before that, when Remus had taught at the school, he had tried to figure out improvements on the Weresbane potion.

At first she had gotten angry when she saw that he had described his test subject as the flea-ridden dirt bag, but she could not find fault in his research. Several pages had been devoted on Werewolf physiology and their resistance to certain potions and magic spells. Hermione quickly got the impression that his resistance to Remus presence that year had not only been his personal hatred but really had been the safety of his students. Weresbane was not infallible, she understood now. As someone who had faced Were-Remus as well, she could understand his fears and his desire to improve the potions. He didn't succeed however, but had managed to invent a Healing Potion that didn't clash with the Weresbane, so 'the would-be murderer' could recover faster from his injuries. She wondered if Remus had ever thanked him for that.

She still had several books to read through, but had come to a conclusion. Snape had never researched ageing potions. So, whatever he had wanted to do, de-aging was just a side effect.

There were several common denominators in his work. Every article a certain H. Reese wrote, was critiqued beyond measure. Sure that this was part of a personal vendetta, Hermione ignored most of these entries. The other potions were either healing potions or potions connected with the mind. His preoccupation with healing potions was easily explained. As he was always making them for the infirmary, it was not surprising he was constantly searching for ways to make them better and easier to prepare.

She had assumed that he researched mind potions, such as the Lacuna potion, designed to obscure memories, because of his Occlumency and Leglimency-abilities. In order to face Voldemort every week, he'd need every tool he could find to keep his mind private. But he also researched retrieval potions, an interest she could not place that easily…

Until one late afternoon, while she was waiting for a Pepper-up potion to mature, she found a very special entry in one of his older notebooks. It was a copy of the medical records of Alice and Frank Longbottom. She found it eerily to read the medical notes some Healer had taken about the condition from which the parents of one of her best friends suffered.

She was completely shocked by the revelation that Snape was trying to cure the Longbottoms. But why did he treat Neville so badly then? Was it guilt for not saving his parents yet? Was the potion he had tested on himself a prototype of a cure? It made sense, Hermione thought, if his aim had been to restore the mind to an earlier phase, de-aging the body as well seemed like a natural side-effect. If her hypothesis was correct, the Longbottoms could be cured with a few corrections to the potion.

Then again, they would loose all the years in between. Hermione's mood fell. Even if it worked, nobody should loose years of experiences and memories.

And there was something else to consider: if Snape thought this was the effect of the potions, surely he would have never tested it himself. Why condemn himself to loosing memories? He must have been working on something else.

Sunk into her sullen thoughts, she had ignored her surroundings. Suddenly she was startled by the sound of cauldron boiling over. The Pepper-up! She should have turned the fire off several minutes ago.

"Damnit!" She jumped up to _Evanesco_ the entire mess. She had so been looking forward to a quiet evening with a book and now instead she would have to start again. Frustrated she kicked the wooden bench and swore again.

"You're not supposed to say bad words." A small voice behind her said reproachingly.

She spun around and came face to face – well not face to face, but rather across – to Snape.

Her knee-jerk response was set to her thirty-something-year old teacher instead of the four year old she was faced with. "I'm sorry, Pro…" She realised that addressing the child as Professor would be ridiculous. Calling him Severus seemed too improper. She settled for "Mister Snape."

The black-haired child nodded solemnly. Hermione had no idea if it was because of the apology or the formal address.

"What's your name?" He asked.

She debated whether to give him her surname or given name. Deciding she didn't want to be called Miss Granger by a four-year old, she told him. "I'm Hermione Granger. You can call me Hermione."

"Hermione." He repeated. She noted surprised that he didn't mangle her name, as most children did. _Hermy_, it made her cringe each and every time.

Then she realised she was the adult in the room and that the boy was somewhere he wasn't allowed to be.

"What are you doing here?" She asked with a kind voice, because she didn't dare to scold him.

He shrugged and looked the other way. She tried again.

"You shouldn't be here. It's dangerous for little children here."

"I'm not little anymore, I'm four." He spoke, a little more forcefully than before. It seemed that tiny Snape was just as stubborn as big Snape. Hermione fought the urge to smile at his cuteness.

"Well, it's dangerous for big boys too." She concluded, feeling rather ridiculous. "I should bring you back downstairs."

"Can't I stay here?" There was a slight whine in his voice. "I promise I won't touch nothing."

"Anything." She corrected automatically. "And you should be in your chambers." A thought struck her. "Where is Ms. Figg?"

"She's sleeping." He reluctantly admitted.

"So you snuck out of your room?" She pinched the bridge of her nose. Children!

He quickly caught on he shouldn't have confessed that and looked at his feet. "I'm sorry?" He offered. "I was so bored."

Hermione realised that Snape-the-tiny-one had not been out of his chambers for an entire month. No wonder he was bored. She took pity on the boy. The Potions' Lab however, was no place for children.

"I'll tell you what. You let me clean up here and then we'll go downstairs together. We'll play a game together." The damn Pepper-up could wait one night.

Snape Junior's face lit up, like she had singlehandedly made Christmas and his birthday fall on the same day. "Really?"

"If Ms Figg agrees. You'll have to apologize for running off like that." Her own mother had raised her to be a polite girl. She didn't even think about enforcing the same rules with this child.

"I promise."

"And no touching!" She didn't think she had anything poisonous out, but she'd rather be safe than sorry.

Little Snape put his hands behind his back and looped his index fingers together. Hermione smiled. Her Aunt Margaret had taught her twins, Terrence and Timothy, to do exactly the same when they went to the supermarket. When those two stuck together, they could raise hell.

In a matter of minutes she had cleared everything away. Her charge was still standing in the same place and hadn't spoken a word. He seemed very well behaved. Maybe a bit too much behaved… She doubted Terry or Tim would have the patience to wait.

"Let's go, little man." She said and instinctively held out her hand, so they could descend the stairs together. He hesitated a bit, before grasping it.

"What were you cooking?" He asked innocently.

Hermione stared at him, dumbfounded for a moment. In her mind, the adult Snape marched over to them, spun his younger self around and smacked him for insulting the noble art of Potion brewing. It was however an honest question, so she gave him an honest answer.

"I wasn't cooking, I was brewing."

He nodded, but Hermione saw he didn't understand.

"Cooking is something you do with food. I was making medicine, for someone with a cold."

He stared at her. "You must be really smart!"

A compliment from Snape… If the situation wasn't this strange, she would have cherished it forever.

Snape's chambers had changed since she last been there. Someone, she assumed Dumbledore, had installed a children's proof zone. Several bookshelves had been added, filled with picture books. Hermione's inner child was jealous: little Snape had more books to himself than her local library had had. The colourful carpet looked like a soft place to play on and she could see cars and plastic animals lined up on a chest of toys. A poster with the alphabet (combined with animals that start with the letters) now adorned the wall that had been empty before.

They were alone.

"Where is Ms. Figg?" She asked.

"In the bedroom. She always reads a story for me when I take a nap. She was sleeping when I woke up."

That was a long time for an adult to be asleep during the day. Hermione started to worry.

"Why don't you find us a toy to play with while I check up on her." He ran off.

It was as she suspected. Ms Figg was fast asleep in her chair, her forehead burning with fever. She needed to warn Madame Pomfrey, but she couldn't leave Snape Junior by himself. She also could not sent a House-elf for her, as she had found out before that Snape Senior had banned all Elves from his rooms. Not even Dumbledore could summon one here, Snape had apparently terrified them completely.

She decided to send her Patronus as a messenger. Her otter swirled around her, making her smile, before flying of to Dumbledore.

When she returned to the living room, she saw that Junior had chosen a ball to play with. He didn't rush over to play however. He was staring at the door, terrified.

"What's wrong?" And then she realised what he would have seen. She could kick herself, a Patronus wasn't something a child saw everyday.

"Did you see a white animal flying by?" She asked, squatting down to his level. He nodded.

"You don't have to be afraid. I…" Conjured it. But how to explain the concept to a four year-old? "I called it."

"Do you want me to do it again?" He seemed a bit curious, but didn't answer. She decided to go for it anyway.

She showed him his wand, careful not to make sudden movements. She then focussed on a happy memory from her own childhood. A Christmas, with all her grandparents still alive, long ago.

"Expecto Patronum." Her otter was delighted to be out again so soon. It circled around her, but mostly around Junior, making the boy giggle. When the otter finally disappeared, Snape Junior turned to Hermione.

"You can do magic too?" He whispered the word 'magic' like it was a bad word.

"Yes. Everyone here can." Hermione was confused. Surely a pureblood child was used to magic? Maybe after spending time with Ms. Figg he now thought they were all squibs?

"I can't." He said matter-of-fact. Too matter-of-fact.

"Because you are still young. I didn't do any magic until I was five." Some bully had thrown her into the deep end of the pool. She had managed to keep herself afloat until her father had come to rescue her. Nobody had noticed she had floated an entire inch above the water…except for herself and her dad.

"Father doesn't like magic." It was a whisper, but Hermione heard him and understood the meaning behind the words. She had no idea how to respond.

She was saved by the interruption of Dumbledore bringing Madame Pomfrey over and the ensuing fuss. Fortunately Ms. Figg only had a case of flue. It was decided she would be sent back to her own place to sleep it off. The presence of a weird woman in the infirmary would just stir many unwanted stories under the student population.

As it was the weekend, McGonagall and Dumbledore could watch Severus themselves. The Headmaster did ask Hermione to stay with him until bedtime that night, because he needed to tie up some loose ends before he could return.

Hermione agreed gladly. She had promised the boy, after all. How bad could it be?

* * *

A few hours later, the room had turned into a disaster zone and Hermione let herself sink into the leather sofa. She was exhausted. Who knew that playing with a four-year old was so hard!

Dumbledore was currently in the bedroom, reading him a story and putting him to bed. Hermione was dying for a cup of tea, but didn't think she could make it to the kitchen.

Maybe she could guilt the Headmaster into making one for her?

McGonagall choose that moment to enter. She took one look at Hermione's limp form, chuckled and busied herself in the kitchen. By the time the Headmaster returned, they were all set for a lovely evening with tea. A few weeks ago she would have met the very idea with ridicule. Right now, she was glad to have a decent conversation with the only people who knew what she was working on.

"He's fast asleep now." Dumbledore noted. "For a moment there, I thought he would never stop talking."

Professor McGonagall nearly dropped her cup in surprise. "Really? Our Severus? Chatty?"

"He seems very taken with you, Miss Granger." His eyes were twinkling madly.

She only shrugged. "I just played with him for a while." Somehow the cute little black-haired child had managed to wrap her around his finger.

She got a disapproving glance from her Head of House, when she surveyed the mess with a muttered "I See". Hermione nearly groaned, she was too tired to clean up.

"I hear you played with ball and then you coloured together and then you made a tower of blocks…" He imitated the enthusiasm Junior had shown him. Hermione felt her cheeks redden with all the attention her play date was getting.

"Don't worry, dear." Her teacher assured her. "He's just glad Severus is finally having some fun. The two of us are no longer young enough to run about with a wee child like him."

"You never play with him?" Hermione was unpleasantly surprised. Junior had been very excited before, but she had assumed that it was because he had finally found a playmate.

Both of them were quick to defend themselves. "We read to him." One said. "And play cards." The other agreed.

"Too bad we can't go outside and let him play in the sun." McGonagall sighed.

The remark deserved a stern look from the Headmaster: "We've talked about it before, Minerva. It's just not safe. Severus had to many enemies. Someone like Bellatrix Lestrange would love to get her hands on an easy target."

No matter how much Hermione wanted to agree with her Head of House that he should be allowed outside, the mere name of that vile woman silenced her. She had read what she had done to two adults, Aurors even. She did not even want to consider what she could do to a child.

"I know, Albus." She gave him a glare in return. "It's just not natural for a child to be cooped up inside at all times. No wonder he acted out and wandered off today."

"He wasn't acting out. He was just bored." Hermione defended him. "In fact, I wouldn't even have know he was there if I hadn't …" She stopped abruptly, having no desire to admit her little faux-pas in her present company.

Dumbledore's twinkle returned tenfold. "Ah, I'm afraid little Severus has already tattled. I know you _said a bad word._" He mock chastised her by wiggling his index finger at her.

Hermione blushed again. Four years old or not, her Potions' professor had a knack for getting her into trouble. She tried to shrug it off.

"Well yes, he wasn't out looking for trouble, he was just exploring. Junior's actually well behaved."

While the Headmaster muttered "Junior, I quite like that name" to himself, her Transfiguration teacher replied to her with a pensive tone to her voice. "Yes, he is, isn't he? Surprisingly so, actually."

Before they could continue discussing Junior's behaviour, Dumbledore broached another important subject.

"If I may ask, why were you cursing? Are you having troubles with the research?"

Hermione focussed her mind anew. "No, actually. It was a problem with the Pepper-up potion. I got distracted and it boiled over."

He patted her knee. "Accidents happen to the best of brewers." He leaned back again. "No new finding?"

She wondered if she should share her new ideas. It would be rather pointless, she thought, without any real result. They already knew Snape's intent wasn't de-ageing himself.

"I'm still working on identifying the ingredients."

Suddenly she couldn't suppress a yawn. McGonagall rose and signed for her to follow.

"I think it's time for us to call it a day." Hermione didn't argue. She had worked hard this week and after playing with Junior until her back hurt, she longed for her bed.

"I'll even give you a public dressing down for over-working yourself." Her teacher added with a wink.

Hermione grinned. Her classmates didn't really need the extra reminder, they already believed that she was spending all that time making and researching normal healing potions. Her reputation for being an overachiever was widely spread.

"I mean it." Her Head of House was suddenly serious. "You need to take a day off. Tomorrow is a Hogsmeade day. Spend it with your friends."

Harry and Ron had been nagging about it for weeks now. Perhaps she should…

"Everybody needs to let their hair down at some time." Hermione unsuccessfully tried to imagine her stern teacher without her trademark bun. "I think I will spend some time drawing tomorrow with little Severus."

McGonagall walked over to the table, where Hermione and Junior had been colouring. She touched a crayon and then picked it up, surprised by the waxy texture. She drew an experimental line on a piece of parchment.

"Ingenious." She commented. "Did you transfigure these yourself?"

Hermione nodded. She had thought it ridiculous for a child to draw with quills, even self-inking ones. For her troubles, she received an impressed nod. Her teacher lingered by the table. Hermione had gone all out and had drained the colour of several books, creating colouring pages. Junior had spent a very long time turning an impressive picture of a dragon purple. As a proper four year old, he had ignored all the lines.

"What is this supposed to be?" McGonagall asked, very much amused by the yellow blob of colour that constituted Junior's 'drawing' on a piece of parchment. If you squinted, you could make out four legs and a head attached to a body.

"An otter. He saw my Patronus." Hermione dutifully explained. If Junior hadn't told her, she probably wouldn't have guessed either. He wasn't exactly a budding artist.

Dumbledore had moved closer as well. "Ah, an otter. That is a very interesting animal to have as a guiding spirit. An indicator of a very curious, but playful spirit."

Hermione had read the literature as well. She didn't quite understand how she had ended up with such a frivolous creature. Still, she loved her totem and smiled every time the conjured animal engaged her.

"Perhaps you should listen to your guide and let your inner child out a little more." The Headmaster went on saying.

His colleague sighed loudly and rolled her eyes dramatically. "Honestly Albus. If you want to ask the girl to babysit every now and then, just ask her."

Babysit? Hermione panicked slightly. Playing around a bit had been great fun, but actually being responsible for a four-year old? Who, not unimportant, would turn back into his older self soon if she did her job right?

That evening she had managed to see Junior as Junior and not as a tiny Professor Snape. But could she keep that up? And what would he say if he was himself again?

"Miss Granger. You wouldn't have to baby-sit. Ms. Figg is normally here full time to watch over things and she will be back again. I was thinking more along the lines of you being here and playing with him. As we said before: non of us are young enough to keep up with a four-year old. He should enjoy his newfound youth a bit."

Hermione thought about the suggestion. She was tempted, but she really had no idea when she was going to manage it. She could hardly spent less time working on her potions work and her friends were already complaining she was absent too often. Lying even more was out of the question.

"Only one evening every week to start with. Severus' potion won't run away and I'm sure you have already backed up a healthy supply of Polyjuice."

It seemed like her teachers truly knew her. She had been brewing several items in advance. Perhaps she should find the time to relax, muck about a bit. None of her teachers would complain if she did actually started to use her newly acquired privileges.

She slowly nodded and let her eyes wander across the room. They fell on the framed picture Dumbledore had showed her before. Up until now, she had always assumed Severus Snape was a Pure Blood through and through.

She remembered the words he had spoken before: Father doesn't like magic. Did that young magical girl marry a Squib or even a Muggle? How had it affected the little boy that now lay asleep in the other room? His lips had trembled when he had said it.

It was something Harry could have said about his guardians around that age. The same guardians that locked him into the cupboard underneath the stairs every night...

Determination flowed through her body. She was going to make sure Snape grew up again and returned to his own grown-up life. She also was going to help Junior enjoy the childhood he should have had the first time around.


	3. Chapter 3 : Insightful conversations

March came around too quick for Hermione. She hadn't forgotten about Ron's birthday - he had been gushing about becoming an 'adult' for weeks now – but she had forgotten to appoint a time in her busy schedule to actually go out and buy a gift for him. In a rush of panic, she had basically owl-post-ordered half of Honeydukes' stock. Ron hadn't minded. He loved his gift!

His party would go into the history books as one of the most exciting ever to have been celebrated at Hogwarts, thanks to the boatload of Weasley-products his brothers sent him. It was mostly experimental stuff, which prompted the prefects present to look the other way, _if_ they were allowed to try some of it out. Even the normally very strict Hermione looked the other way, after Ron had promised to dispose of it before morning. Her friends were curious why Hermione wasn't protesting against the blatant disregard of rules, but were too afraid to ask. Hermione herself enjoyed the evening, drank butterbeer and spent some time with her friends. Even if they had asked, Hermione wasn't going to tell them she knew that McGonagall was stuck babysitting Junior that night and wouldn't show up unless Gryffindor tower exploded. She had every intention of stopping them doing _that. _

She had been trying to take some time of now and then. Her professors were right, becoming stressed out wouldn't help her research. Potions was a exact science and demanded her complete concentration. Now that she had identified the 'easy' ingredients, the tests had became a great deal more difficult. Several of them even required new potions to be brewed to test the combination of both liquids. She had found out the hard way it was difficult to work on those projects when she hadn't had enough sleep.

Her potions work, those for the infirmary and her secret project, combined with spending time with her friends en Junior, left her with very little time for schoolwork. For the first time in her life she wasn't ahead in her studies, she merely kept up with her classmates. This worried her some, but she promised herself she'd study in earnest in May, when examinations came closer. If her points were less than her own average, she could still make it up during her NEWT-year. She'd study in the summer if need be.

Besides, she really did not want to choose. She needed her friends at her side and she couldn't let the Headmaster and by connection the Order down. Junior would be the obvious choice to let go, but she enjoyed those stolen hours as much as the little boy did. They had started by meeting every Tuesday evening, when the Gryffindor Quidditch Team trained. Most of her friends were in the team and those who weren't acted as their cheering squad. Nobody expected her to stand around by the field.

Then McGonagall had suggested she skip her Thursday afternoon lessons. Hermione had protested at first, but her teacher had insisted, claiming she usually set aside those hours for practice. She had even promised to tutor her, if by chance they did learn something new during class. Faced with such conviction, Hermione had agreed. It wasn't hardship to spend more time with the kid.

* * *

That Thursday afternoon went different than normal. She had grown accustomed to being greeted enthusiastically by her little friend. Last time she had turned up, he had even hugged her.

That day, she walked into the living room almost unnoticed. Only Crookshanks, who she had brought over a few weeks before and had since decided to camp out here indefinitely, meowed softly in her direction. _So the cat did remember who he belonged too._

Ms. Figg waved at her absentmindedly, before returning to her job at hand: she was assembling yet another scrapbook filled with pictures of her cats. Hermione had a feeling she was going to end up with a book about Crooks at the end of this period, at the rate the older woman was cooing at her pet. She waved back politely even though she didn't really like the woman. She treated Junior all right, Hermione would never complain about that. But knowing what kind of house a younger Harry had grown up in, Hermione couldn't help but think that perhaps Ms. Figg could have changed something for the better. Instead, the elder woman had just watched from a distance.

Finally she spotted Junior. He was sitting quietly in the leather sofa, lost in his thoughts. When she coughed, he jumped up and practically skipped towards her.

"Hermione, you're here!"

"Yes, I am." She said happily, infected by his joy. "What do you want to do today?" She suspected some kind of ball game, he truly enjoyed those. Or perhaps a game of 'Pairs'. He was brilliant at memory games and had beaten every adult he knew.

The thoughtful look returned. "Hermione?" He asked, biting his lower lip. It was clear he was trying to find a way to ask her something. Hermione waited patiently. If she pushed, he might withdraw further. He was a very shy child that never dared to ask for something he wanted. It was why she always asked him first what he wanted to do, because she knew he would otherwise agree with everything she suggested.

"Can you do magic for me?"

Hermione blinked. She hadn't expected that. He no longer was afraid of magic, but preferred to play with regular Muggle toys. It was probably the first time he had asked specifically to see something magical.

"Sure." Unless he asked her to do something gruesome, she didn't see the harm in humouring him.

He smiled at her, took her hand and dragged her to his room. Inside, he went over to his closet. Hermione suddenly wondered if she was going to have to exorcise 'the monster in the closet'. But he didn't seem afraid of his wardrobe, in fact he nearly threw open the doors in his excitement.

"Can you change the colours?" He asked, pulling out a green sweater. "Uncle Albus changed Aunt Nerva's green robes to brown yesterday when she spilled some soup and I thought…" His voiced trailed off en he bit his bottom lip again, like he had dared to ask too much.

Hermione immediately noticed the problem. From the wardrobe a sea of dark clothes greeted them: blacks, greens and greys.

"Don't you like green?" She asked stupidly. Snape Senior had always been dressed in black, it seemed natural for Junior to do the same. Then again, Junior was in many ways a completely different person.

"I like green a lot. It's my favourite colour. But I like blue too." He shrugged. "Maybe red?" He sounded very hopeful. Hermione decided that it was only natural for a boy not to be dressed like his gothic counterpart.

"Go get your crayons," she told him. "I need some colour examples." Dramatically she made a show of stretching her arms and legs, before grabbing her wand and waving it about. He ran with a grin plastered over his face.

Normally she shied away from anything that reeked of a makeover. After living with Lavender and Parvati for too long and waking up every day to unasked for wardrobe tips, she detested the concept of colour coordination. With an evil smile, she planned on doing the exact opposite. Junior would get every colour of the rainbow and he could mix and match as he pleased. After all, if a four-year old couldn't get away with it, who could?

They spent the next hour changing each and every item in the closet several times over. She also added decorations, like smiley faces and cartoon animals. In the end, she toned everything down a bit, making sure it was still wearable without making everyone's eyes tear up just looking at him. Junior was now proudly wearing a white T-shirt with an otter on it, on top of blue trousers. Perfectly normal clothes for a child, but rather unusual for Junior. He grabbed a green shirt to wear on top of it, but left it open so everyone could see his T-shirt. Hermione smiled too, she was rather proud of how the animal had turned out.

He looked at it for the twentieth time in a row. "Why did Aunt Nerva only made dark clothes for me?" He suddenly asked.

Probably because she used his old clothes as a starting point and he only ever wore black. She could hardly tell Junior his older self was the gloomy sort. So she opted for the next best thing.

"Grey and green are the colours of Slytherin."

He frowned. "What's that?"

She resisted the urge to smack herself. Of course a boy who barely understood he was magical himself, would no nothing the House system in Hogwarts. She had just made it more difficult for herself to explain. She had opened the door and she had to walk though it, but where to begin?

"You know that this is a school, right?"

He smiled at her, he liked it when he knew things. "Yes, this is Hogwarts. Uncle Albus is the Headmaster, Aunt Nerva is a teacher and you are a student."

"Well, the students live together in Houses. Not real houses like buildings, but more like a family group away from home. There are four. Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin."

She grabbed four of his now very bright socks – Dobby would be very jealous – and transfigured them into four house ties.

"Each house has different colours, so we know who belongs with who."

She pointed at the green and grey one. "This is?"

"_Slydderin_." He said. Hermione smothered her grin.

She went for her own colours next. "Your aunt Nerva…" Her professor was going to kill her if she heard that. "is the Head of Gryffindor. I'm one of her students."

"Black and Yellow for Hufflepuff and Blue and Bronze for Ravenclaw."

He absorbed the information. "Was your mommy in _Griffindor_ too? Like mine was in _Slydderin_?"

Oh dear, here we go, Hermione thought to herself. Luckily he was too young to already have his older self's Pureblood ideals.

"No, my parents are Muggles. They can't do any magic."

Confused he asked: "So how did you know where to go? Did you choose your own family?"

"You don't choose. The Sorting Hat chooses for you."

"A hat chooses?" He asked incredulously. "Really?"

She nodded.

"That's silly."

Hermione rather agreed. Still, she had been terrified immensely when she had walked over to that stool to try it on.

"So I can still go to Grifindor like you and Aunt Nerva?"

She suddenly wondered if adult Snape would remember this conversation. Would he be angry if she didn't convince him to become a Slytherin? Or would he just be angry that she had spent time with his younger self. One thing was certain, if he ever asked her about the birds and the bees, she would obliviate him and then herself.

For now she would answer the question in the same way that it was asked. Seriously. A curious child wanted to know, so she would explain.

"Maybe. You'll have to see what the hat says. It chooses your house based on your personality." Mostly, she corrected mentally. The Patil twins had ended up in different houses, but you couldn't fail but to notice that most families, like the Weasleys, all ended up in the same House.

"For instance, all Gryffindors are brave and courageous."

His face fell. "I'm not that brave." He whispered. Hermione hadn't a clue what to do next. Convince him that he was so? She did think that the elder Snape was so: you'd need lots of courage facing Voldemort on a regular basis and lie to his face. But last thing they needed was a small boy desperately proving his worth by exploring the castle. He only wanted to be in Gryffindor because they were. She decided to employ a different tactic.

"Maybe Gryffindor isn't the right place for you. One of my best friends in Ravenclaw." She wanted to emphasize that you could have friends across houses. "That's were all the smart people end up."

She poked his head playfully. "I bet you're smart enough to be a Ravenclaw."

The compliment worked as she had planned. He could smile again.

"Hufflepuff is a great house too," She added, not wanting to leave them out, as they so often were.

"They're hard workers and make the best kind of friends." Sadly she remembered Cedric Diggory. He had been smart and brave like his House, but it had been his natural charm that made him a true Hufflepuff. Even with Harry Potter and an international Quidditch star competing, he had most of the school rooting for him during the Triwizard tournament. And even though she had been the best friend of one, and the temporary girlfriend of another competitor, he had been nothing but gallant towards her. Junior ripped her from her thoughts.

"What about _Slidderins_? What are they like?"

She hesitated, she had to be really carful now. "They're considered ambitious and cunning."

The confused look on his face was priceless. "What?"

"Ambitious." She articulated it clearly. "It means that you have big plans for your future. Cunning means that you'll use any means possible to attain those dreams." Like bribery or cheating, but she could hardly say that out loud.

"I don't know if I am those things." He was sad again, probably because he couldn't be like his mother either. Hermione wasn't going to let him stay down.

"I think maybe you are. What do you want to do when you grow up?"

He took his time to think it through. "I want to be rich and buy a house for me and my mummy to live in." Then he quickly added. "And you can come and visit us."

Hermione smiled at the addendum. With the loyalty he was currently showing, she ought to convince him to become a Hufflepuff. "Well, that seems like a very ambitious plan to me."

* * *

Minutes later Junior seemed to have forgotten all about their conversation and enjoyed their play. The conversation lingered in Hermione's head however, even later in the day.

After classes, Harry, Ron and Neville joined her in the library, to study together. Not able to concentrate on her work, she studied her friends. Neville, although he had grown much in the last few years, hadn't been a prime candidate for Gryffindor when he arrived here. Had the hat seen his potential or had Neville sculptured himself after the ideals of his house?

Ron was a better Gryffindor example. He was a brave soul, unless there were spiders involved. He also was a good and loyal friend. When she had seen his Labrador-patronus, she hadn't been surprised at all. He was a good Gryffindor, but he could have been a wonderful Hufflepuff as well.

She considered Harry as well. Seeing as he had gotten some of Voldemort's gifts when the latter had tried to kill him, it wasn't that easy to place him. He was probably best of in Gryffindor any way.

The hardest one to think about was herself. The hat had suggested Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. Her 11-year old self had jumped at the opportunity to be anything but a nerdy bookworm, as she had been called often enough before. The house of Gryffindor had been the house of heroes she had read all about and when she had received her red and yellow colours she had nearly cried with joy.

Until she realised that Gryffindor or not, she still had no friends. Fortunately that had all changed with the troll-incident. She looked at her friend anew, all struggling with their Charms essay, and smiled. Perhaps she wasn't a true Gryffindor at heart, but there was nowhere she'd rather be.

A half hour later it was time for dinner. After that, her friends ran off for yet another Quidditch practice. She wasn't happy with what she had performed before, so she decided to return to the library to do some more work.

It was the best decision she had made that month.

Although at first she had gotten quite annoyed at the three Hufflepuff hidden away at a corner table, giggling at the magazines they were hiding in the books. The librarian, the stern Madam Pince, noticed this as well and strode towards them. The boys were very quick to hide their books in the stacks around them, which was probably why they had chosen that place.

But Madam Pince wasn't deterred by their manoeuvre. In fact, one of her very rare smiles graced her face. Curious, Hermione put aside her own books and watched to see what her next move would be.

The librarian produced her wand, mumbled a few words and suddenly the magazines, PlayWizards Hermione guessed, flew towards her. The pages even unfolded themselves, to show what the boys had been staring at before.

As the boys' mouths fell open, Madam Pince's eyebrows rose as she leafed through the pages. Hermione saw glimpses of bare breasts and fell the urge to roll her eyes. Teenage boys and their hormones.

"Disgusting." The librarian muttered. "3 days of detention each, for bringing this filth into my library."

The boys took that as their cue to leave.

Hermione was very impressed: that spell was very powerful! Not only the last, but all three of the magazines they had been reading had been produced. If boosted, the spell could be the perfect tool for scholars. She often forgot to take down the reference of interesting titbits she read. To find them again, without having to manually leaf through the books again, would spare her loads of time.

She wondered if Madam Pince could be convinced to teach the spell to her. Perhaps not, because it was the perfect spying tool. She'd be able to read everything anyone around her had read. She'd even be able to spy on her teachers, see what books they had checked before writing their exam questions.

… or she could see which research they had consulted last ….

"Madam Pince?"

* * *

It had been surprisingly easy to convince the librarian. The excuse of being a forgetful researcher had worked like a charm. Hermione did have to promise her not to use the spell against her fellow students.

As she was waiting in the potions lab until Junior's bedtime had passed, she dissected her own motives. She was about to use a new spell to invade her Professor's privacy. It did not go against the wording of the promise she had made, but she was very aware that was just semantics. On top of that, she really didn't think Snape would appreciate her nosing through his private collection. Again. But she was doing it to save him… Surely that took preference above privacy?

She debated with herself, wondering if she should ask Dumbledore first. Then she realised the Headmaster would give her permission anyway, he was desperate to get his Potions Master -and his spy- back.

No time like the present, she decided and headed down. Miss Figg was still in the bedroom. Perhaps it would be best to do this quickly without any witnesses. There was still the chance it would fail: everything depended on the spell's ability to distinguish between Snape 'Senior' and Snape 'Junior'. Even though she had enjoyed reading "Harry the Hippogriff" to Junior, about a Hippogriff with fear of heights who still learned how to fly, she had no desire to see the book tonight.

Hermione took her wand and pronounced the ancient Greek words carefully. It had taken her several tries to master the spell. Her inner swot had practically fainted when the librarian had boasted about the ancient spell, invented in the historical library of Alexandria.

Luck was on her side that night. Three books floated towards her. She grabbed the first, an encyclopaedia of spells and it opened on the page with the Obliviate spell. She quickly scanned through it, but there was nothing that jumped out at her. It was all pretty common knowledge: an memory charm, cast to make someone forget. Not impossible to remove, although very difficult and best not attempted by an amateur. Impossible to perform on yourself. Best not used multiple times on the same person. Not effective when used on wizards who suffered psychological trauma, because the emotions will start to bleed through. Equally ineffective to make someone forget vows.

Intrigued Hermione placed the book away. She knew he had been working on memory potions. Perhaps an anti-Obliviate potion to uncover a forgotten memory from his past? She shook her head, she shouldn't make assumptions just yet, when there were still two more books to see. She choose the modern looking one first.

It was a recent number of Potions Monthly. The book opened at the newest article of Master H. Reese. A picture of the potioneer was included, but Snape had drawn a funny moustache on it. The utter childishness of it made Hermione smile. Picture Reese scowled at her.

She almost closed the book after that, thinking it was just another example of Snape's desire to ruin the man. Then she noticed the title: "The Obscurus Potion: worthless legend."

It was a very badly written article. Reese had taken it upon his to recreate an medieval potion called the Obscurus, designed to delete without a trace certain memories. The author had copied all known recipes and experimented with it, coming to the conclusion the potion was just a legend and could not be made. He had painstakingly described his process, even commenting on the prices of ingredients. There was no list of the ingredients themselves however, let alone even one of the recipes he had followed. He had even failed to mention references to the ancients tomes he had used. Suddenly Hermione understood _why_ Snape had it out for the man. He was an utter pratt.

The third tome was bound in leather and looked very old. Hermione had saved it for last, because she was actually afraid that if she touched it, it would crumble to dust.

It didn't. The pages were made of thick parchment and the words on it were hand-written. It looked like an old recipe book, passed on from master to master. It probably was unique and priceless. Snape had, no surprise there, been reading the entry on the Obscurus potion. It spoke only of the legend and did not include any instruction on the brewing. There was however an ingredient list.

Hermione was shocked to discover it almost matched her own list of identified ingredients. The only ones unaccounted for on her list, were ones she hadn't tested for yet. This threw her entire thought process for a spin: Snape hadn't been brewing a potion to remember, he had been brewing one to forget…

This changed everything. She had been going about it all wrong, reading all healing manuals she could find. If he had been creating the Obscurus, she should have been checking the old tomes in the Library. Perhaps even some of the Darker manuals…

It seemed rather unlikely that he was creating the antidote for an unknown potion. But if he created a cure for this potion, it would also cure every other Forgetting Potion and maybe even the Obliviate spell… A very powerful antidote, but a very useful one.

She was conflicted: which path should she follow next? She decided to consult the Headmaster.

* * *

Hermione felt rather awkward, ascending the stairs to Dumbledore's office, without having been invited. He fortunately welcomed her in a friendly fashion, calling for tea immediately.

"Miss Granger, I have been meaning to invite you for a while now. How is the research going?"

It was the perfect start to her story. She told about her discovery and her subsequent dilemma. He listen to her until she fell silent.

"What is it you want of me?" He then asked.

"I…" She faltered. What did she want? "I.. Was there anything that Professor Snape was desperate to forget?" It was the most impertinent question she had ever asked. She could only hope he wouldn't be angry and shout at her.

Dumbledore kept quiet instead, staring into his cup of tea. Hermione could tell he was mulling it over in his mind: thinking about what he knew about Snape and considering how much to reveal to her. She grew even more nervous every second that passed. What terrible secret was Snape hiding? Finally Dumbledore spoke.

"Yes, Severus was probably trying to forget something. Do you know what an Unbreakable Vow is?"

She nodded. An Unbreakable Vow was just that: unbreakable. Either you keep your end of the deal or you die. It was a rather crude way of ensuring promises were kept.

"I'm afraid someone forced him to take such a vow. It seems he went to great lengths to avoid fulfilling his task." His eyes, now directed at her instead of his cup, shone sadly. He truly looked like an old man, more fragile then she had ever seen him before.

Suddenly she noticed his left hand, the one that had been cursed. Because he was now in his own chambers, he hadn't covered it up, like he usually did in public. She could see why, his hand wasn't just infected anymore, it looked like it had been burnt to a crisp.

All the pieces fell together. Dumbledore's hexed hand, the cursed necklace, even the rogue bludger that had targeted the teachers' stand during the last game before Christmas: all attempts on the Headmaster's life. As a Death Eater, Snape could have been forced by Voldemort to use his position close to Dumbledore to take him out. The Dark Lord probably would want revenge for his failure in the Department of Mysteries.

"I see." She managed to say. But she truly didn't. Why would Dumbledore go to all this trouble to reawaken his would be murderer? As an adult Snape would have no options: either kill or be killed by the vow. It would be safer for everyone involved to let him stay four years old.

They bade each other goodnight and Hermione left. Once she passed the gargoyles she realized she shouldn't go to the common room. If she looked as dazed as she felt, she would no doubt get much unwanted attention of her friends. She could tell them nothing of what she had just found out.

For the first time since she had gotten her new privileges, she decided to abuse them. Ignoring curfew, she turned for the seventh floor. She needed a place to think.

* * *

The Room of Requirement had decided otherwise. Instead of producing the comfortable sitting room she had envisioned, the room changed into the training room the DA sometimes used.

After she had reduced the first practice dummy to dust, she understood why. The Room had picked up on her latent fury. Her confusion had long since turned into new feelings.

Frustration, because she had spent hours, day and even weeks working on developing the wrong kind of potion. Disappointment that Dumbledore had let her go off in the wrong direction, because he didn't trust her with the truth. Resentment because of that truth. Bitterness, because her potion was to restore a murderer.

There was also anger directed at Snape, for taking that stupid vow in the first place and for then cocking up his potion and leaving behind that cute little innocent boy!

Another practice dummy went up in smoke.

She had started to care about him! About Junior. How could she now look that kid in the eyes and not see the adult Death Eater destined to kill his '_Uncle Albus'_.

"Sectumsempra." Hermione watched the newly restored dummy tear into shreds with some satisfaction. Then she realised where she had learned that particular spell: it was listed as one of the curses cured by his "Stitching potion." She felt like screaming in frustration.

Not only Junior had made her change her mind about her sarcastic professor. In his notes, she had discovered a different man: a devoted scholar, someone dedicated to healing and making things right. She had often laughed with his caustic remarks. Most of all, she had learned an awful lot from him. Brewing was quickly becoming one of her passions. She had hoped, that when Junior grew into himself again, she would be able to look up to him as a mentor.

Not a murderer…

A little voice inside of her started to defend him. There was no way he could have refused to take the vow, it said, not without revealing his status as a spy. And he was working on finding a way around the vow. He had tried to erase the entire memory from his mind. He had just failed spectacular.

It wasn't a comfort. Neither was destroying the dummies. Still she kept at it, until a voice from behind her startled her.

"It seems that I am not paying Professor Shacklebolt enough."

An uncharacteristic snort escaped from Hermione. "This isn't education, but frustration."

Dumbledore chuckled, even though she hadn't meant it as a joke. He then produced two of the most ugly chintz chairs Hermione had ever seen.

"Let's sit down and talk for a while."

Reluctantly she took a seat. Last thing she needed was a therapy session.

"I'm afraid I let you leave my office with the wrong conclusion." That surely grabbed her attention.

"Tell me, Miss Granger, do you think that if Severus truly wanted me dead, I would still be alive today?"

Now she thought about it, it did seem rather odd. As a potions master he had every means to make it look like a natural dead. Nobody would be to surprised if the ancient headmaster died of a aneurism or a stroke.

Confused she answered. "No?"

"Someone has been ordered to kill me, but it wasn't Severus. The necklace and the bludger were rather childish attempts, no?"

She considered this. They weren't attempts from someone close to him. They were aimed from a distance. Everyone on the staff were loyal to the cause, so it had to be a student. Then she remembered Harry accusing Draco of having bought the necklace in Borgin & Burkes.

"Draco Malfoy." She said.

The Headmaster blinked in surprise, he apparently hadn't expected her to figure it out so soon. He nodded. It was obvious now she thought it throught. Voldemort wouldn't have used Snape, he'd rather keep his as a spy on the Order. He needed someone with a grudge, someone who had lost a lot last year. Like Draco, who had not only lost his father to Azkaban, but the favours that belonged with the name and fame of the Malfoy family.

"Narcissa Malfoy appealed to an old friend of the family to help." Hermione remembered Umbridge screeching at him, yelling that she expected better of someone that _Lucius Malfoy_ praised. Still, with Lucius in jail, how had one lonely woman convinced him to basically exchange his soul for that of Draco?

"Her sister, Bellatrix Lestrange forced the issue."

"Ah." She had forgotten the family ties between the Blacks, the Malfoys and the Lestranges. Being forced to chose between taking a dreadful vow or proving his disloyalty to that madwoman, Hermione couldn't really blame him for avoiding the fate of the Longbottoms. It almost made her feel a little bit better about Snape. The anger replaced itself with compassion: the man had truly been stuck between a hard place and a rock. No wonder he had tried to forget.

"This unfortunate circumstance did create a fortunate opportunity."

The man had a distinct knack for confusing her. It was becoming rather annoying. Dumbledore raised his left hand and let the sleeve fall down. To her horror, she saw that the curse had spread further than she had thought before. There wasn't a patch of his exposed arm untouched.

"I found and destroyed one of Tom's horcruces last summer, at a terrible price. The object was cursed. Severus managed to slow the process, but…"

"You're dying." It came out as a whisper. Why was he telling her this? She didn't want to know this.

He nodded very solemnly. "Yes. In a few months or even weeks, I will die a pointless death. But if Severus kills me…" He stopped to rephrase his words. "If he helps me on my way, he will rise through the ranks of the Death eaters. He will earn Tom's unconditional trust."

And be despised among all others. Hermione stared at him in disbelief.

"He'll have access to all of Tom's plans."

"But nobody in the Order will listen to your murderer!" What use was having the perfectly placed spy if he had no one to pass his information to?

"I have every confidence in Severus' ability to work on his own. He has done so often enough in the past."

Hermione thought that Dumbledore placed a lot of confidence in one man. Or should she say, he played a rather large burden on his shoulders. To kill a man, to tear his soul in the process, just so he could fight the war on his own? Did Dumbledore even understand what he had asked of Snape?

"I thought he understood." He let out a sigh. "I realise now that it wasn't prudent to leave him without an ally."

Hermione wasn't sure of it, but she suspected he didn't mean an _ally_ as such, but rather someone who had kept him from developing the potion that threatened Dumbledore's plans. A tiny seed of dislike for the man she had respected from the moment she had read his name in 'Hogwarts, a History' planted itself firmly in her stomach.

"That is why I have decided to tell you the truth now."

She guffawed. The idea of her and Snape being allies was ridiculous! He'd rather depend on Lockhart to have his back in a fight than to tell one of his students anything!

"Surely professor McGonagall or Auror Shacklebolt…" She didn't get the chance to finish her sentence.

"None of the Order are good enough actors. If they know Severus to be innocent, they'll never be able to fake hating him. They need to believe the story, in order for Severus' cover to work. If not, Tom might get suspicious."

And she was such a great actress? Her star performance was to fool an entire school she hated Snape's guts? Especially when she knew he was an innocent man? An impossible task!

Dumbledore must have been reading her mind, or at least her surface thoughts, because he answered her unasked questions.

"You'll only need to fool Harry and Mister Weasley. By the time I'm dead, Harry will have all the information needed to hunt for the remaining Horcruces. You'll have no problem disguising the information that came from Severus as information you have found during your own research."

She stood corrected. Gallivanting across the land in search for mystical objects with an entire Death Eater army after them, _that_ was the impossible task!

"But the Death Eaters?" It was all she could say. Her panic was toying with her ability to speak clearly.

"Once I am dead, Voldemort will go after the Ministry and the school. That will keep him and his supported occupied enough for you to stay in the fringe."

Hermione surreptitiously pinched her thigh. This wasn't a dream, was it? Somehow it seemed rather unlikely that she was sitting here, in a comfortable _hideously pink _chair, discussing a rather dark future with her Headmaster.

"I know this all sounds terrible, but it has to be this way. I have spent the last 15 years researching ways to defeat Tom. Everything points in the same direction: the Horcruces. Harry can not destroy Tom, without first destroying them."

Because without the loss of every bit of his soul, Voldemort be resurrected again. She understood those facts. It was the rest of the plan she found so difficult to swallow.

"So your priority must be finding them. No matter what the cost." He leaned back and waited for her to respond.

In turn Hermione let herself fall back into the chair to consider everything she had just heard. She had seen enough chess games to know you couldn't win a battle without making some sacrifices. There was a distinct difference between sacrificing a pawn and an entire government. Real people weren't just pawns…

Then again, with Voldemort in charge, the Order would no longer fight alone. If the short reign of Umbridge had taught her anything, it was that an oppressive force bred opposition. Dumbledore was right in assuming Voldemort would have his hands full with pockets of resistance against his reign.

He would suppress those violently. The realisation made her grimace.

She had once heard the expression: there is a fine line between brilliance and madness. This plan sure was balancing on top of it. She had no idea where it would fall when it all went to pieces.

"Miss Granger." He gently broke through her train of thoughts.

"Hermione." He implored her. "I am the only true obstacle between Tom and his victory left. With this plan we'll at least have some control to what the future will bring."

He forced a smile. "I am vain enough to want my death to mean something."

The joke, clearly intended to lighten the atmosphere, fell flat. The sentiment behind it didn't however. Hermione had needed the reminder that whatever she decided now, some things were inevitable. War was coming and they could use every advantage.

"Yes." She said, after thinking it through. Even to herself, she didn't sound very convinced.

"Yes." Dumbledore repeated, nonplussed. "Does that mean you agree to the plan?"

"It means I will continue my research and bring back Professor Snape as soon as possible."

Snape was of no use to anyone as a four-year old. As for the rest of the plan, she would cross the bridge of madness, when she reached it.

"It is all I ask of you for the moment." The headmaster said, understandingly. "But there may come a time I will ask you for more."

He rose carefully, another sign that he was getting weaker. "I'll leave you to your thoughts then."

Those thoughts plagued her the entire night.


	4. Chapter 4 : Discoveries

Hermione was once again very busy at work in her.. the lab. She had already spent so much time in there, that she had started to consider it as her own, instead of Snape's. Hopefully her Potions Professor would still allow her to brew here after she restored him to his original age. She would really miss the calm and quiet here, if she would be forced to brew in the students' lab down in the dungeons.

Then again, if he refused, she could get the Headmaster involved. After all, it is his ridiculous strategy that will force the two of them to work together when he dies. At the mere thought of the Headmaster plan, Hermione shopped the ginger root more forcefully than she usual. It was distasteful, forcing a man to kill his friend… mentor? employer? She honestly didn't know the relationship between both men. It was obvious the Headmaster cared about little Snape, she had caught them both playing many times, but did he care about adult Snape? Or was he just a pawn in his plan?

If the poor man went though with it (she didn't doubt his loyalty, they had made that mistake before and never again) nevertheless, Hermione would be at his side. First they needed to establish a sort of relationship between the both of them or it would never work. Brewing could be a way to spent some time together as equals.

She sighed. Who was she kidding? Snape was an inherently distrustful person. How could she ever get him to trust her? And in such a short amount of time! Even though she would be honestly interested – she was – in a friendship with the man, Snape probably would tolerate her because Dumbledore had ordered him to and disregard her for the rest of the time. Frustrated she grabbed the next root and decapitated it with a satisfying swoop of her knife.

"Are you angry too?" A small voice asked from behind her. She startled and spun around to face the tiny version of the man she was just thinking about.

"Junior." She chastised. "You know you're not supposed to be here!"

After his first visit he had been banned from the laboratory. It was dangerous place for a small child, with all the toxins in the air, the knives and other implements on the tables and hot fires blazing beneath the cauldrons. Hermione had had visions of Junior drinking one of her potions or just trying to touch one of the more acid ingredients she sometimes had lying about and had set firm rules. If he wanted her to play with him, he would have to wait when she came down to his rooms and not the other way around.

She was rather dumbstruck to see him here as he always did, without exception, as he was told. It was rather sad too see actually, for him to be such a compliant miniature adult instead of a mischievous toddler. Even Hermione, who had been an exemplary child (or so her parents always boasted) had at least tested her boundaries now and then.

This realisation, combined with the way Junior was now avoiding her gaze and staring at the floor, was enough for her not to unleash the lecture she would normally had in store for intruders.

"I'm sorry." Junior offered in the tiniest voice imaginable and Hermione's heart just melted.

"I know you are." She responded, walking closer to him. "But you know you're not allowed up here."

His eyes found the floor again. "I know and I wouldn't have, but.."

His hesitation worried Hermione. Had Ms. Figg fallen ill again? But it was Sunday and ever since she had fallen sick, the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall had made sure she had the weekends off. A frightening possibility crept inside her thoughts.

"Is Professor Dumbledore all right?" If he had succumbed to the curse, all was lost.

Junior moved his head in a motion that was neither nod nor shake. Hermione's nerves flared up again, but she kept calm, knowing that spooking Junior would help neither him nor herself. She crouched down to his level and calmly asked him again: "Junior, I need to know. If he is sick, I have to go down and help him."

This time he shook his head clearly. "He isn't sick, he's fighting with Aunt Nerva."

Not feeling entirely comfortable using a small child to spy on her elders, she pressed on nevertheless.

"About what?" Normally the thought to pry wouldn't even cross her mind, but if it was about his health or about Snape, she felt she had the right to know. She was, after all, vital to his plans.

Luckily, it was nothing so serious. "Something about a hunt and eggs." He told her, the frown on his face showing that he didn't know the concept.

Hermione almost sighed in relief, but guilt at having caused this entire situation quickly set in. It had been her who had realised that Easter was only a week away and that it would be great for Junior to have a bona fide Egg Hunt. Her plan had involved sneaking the boy to the Room of Requirement, so her could at least have the illusion of being outside. Professor McGonagall, who had somehow became an ally in her quest to give Junior the childhood he had never had, had swooned at the idea and had promised to talk to Dumbledore about it. Apparently the talking had proceeded into fighting...

"That isn't that bad, isn't it? Grown ups sometimes fight, just like kids."

"I know." He said with a distant, but sad look in his eyes. Too well, Hermione suspected.

"I just hate it when they yell." He whispered, as if he was entrusting her with a great secret. Hermione had no idea to respond to that. Having been at McGonagall's wrong side of anger a few times, she knew how frightening she could be. But somehow she knew Junior wasn't talking about his Uncle or Aunt any longer.

She felt the urge to hug him, to comfort him and to tell him it would all be all right. Instead she just said: "I know." and felt like a liar. Mentally she made a note to write her parents. She suddenly missed them.

Hermione gave him an awkward pat on the shoulder. "Why don't you wait here while I clean up? Then we can go down together."

Junior nodded, but she could see he wasn't entirely convinced. Part of her felt like storming down the stairs right there and then and yelling at her Professors for scaring their 'nephew'. It wouldn't be productive or even in Junior's best interest, but it would be damned satisfying.

She brought him a chair to sit and wait on and started cleaning. There wasn't that much to do, she had just finished preparing a batch for the infirmary that would last Madame Pomfrey a fortnight. She was getting close to reproducing the potion, so she had wanted to get all of her other work out of the way. Next week would be the week, she could sense it. For now, it was just a matter of decanting the prepared brews and putting away the ingredients. She would be done in just a few minutes if she hurried.

Unfortunately she forget the most important rule of babysitting. You never, ever, leave your child unsupervised, not even for a few short moments.

As well behaved as he was, Junior was no exception to this rule. Bored, he started rummaging in his pockets to play with. Unnoticed to Hermione, he found something terrific: the bouncy ball his Uncle Albus gave him. He smiled broadly.

Something in a lurid colour of pink flashed before Hermione's eyes. Confused, she looked up in time to see a horrified Junior pointing at her and yelling: "Look out!"

The bouncy ball was everywhere at the same time: bouncing between the walls, the tables, the ceiling and the floor, it seemed it didn't know where to go first. It was clearly spelled, because no ordinary ball would be able to create more momentum after each bounce, instead of slowing down.

Knowing it could only be a matter of time before their luck ran out and the ball would shatter glass, she ran over to Junior, pushed him against a wall and shielded him with her body.

Eventually the ball got caught beneath one of the bookcases. Gradually the bouncing slowed until peace returned to the room. Hermione let out the breath she had been holding and turned around, expecting a ravage.

The laboratory was completely unharmed. But how?

Realisation dawned. The Weasley Twins had stuck again. It seemed right up their ally: this thing would scare parents and teachers to death, without causing any damage which the company could be sued for. If she hadn't just feared for her life and that of Junior's, she would congratulate them on the design. Right now, she felt like sending a howler. An ugly screaming and cursing howler.

The tiny figure between her arms, sobbing and apologising, repeating over and over again he didn't know it would be that fast and that he would never do it again, brought her back to herself. Mustering all her strengths, she tried to channel her mother. "Severus Tobias Snape." It was the first time she had used his given name and it had the desired effect: he sobered up immediately and paid her full attention.

"You know the lab is a dangerous place and still you played with a bouncy ball here. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"I'm sorry?" His lip started to tremble.

The stern demeanour she had adopted, suffered its first crack. She sighed. "I know you are sorry. But you are old enough to know you shouldn't play in a lab."

She ignored the voices in her head that argued out that some of her classmates hadn't learned that valuable lesson either. But she wasn't responsible for them.

"Are you going to punish me?"

Hermione slammed down the pity that brewed low in her gut. She suddenly remembered a similar dialogue, held between her parents when she had coloured in the 'pictures' in their anatomy books. Her father had argued against punishing her because she was too young to know any better. Her mother had laughed and told him a time out wouldn't kill her. And it wouldn't kill him either.

"Yes. You are going to get a time-out. You have to stand in that corner." She pointed at the one furthest away from where Hermione still had cleaning to do. "For two minutes and think about what you have done."

She gently guided him to his place. "Two minutes." She repeated. "And then this timer will go off." She put down a transfigured vial next to him, so he could see it. "And you can come to me, we'll hug and you'll be forgiven. Okay?"

Hermione knew from experience how important it was to stress forgiveness. As for the hug, well, by that time she probably needed one too. Who knew it felt so horrible to punish a child?

But her mother was right. A time-out wouldn't kill them. When he grew up again, and remembered this… Then Snape might kill her. Maybe she could try to Obliviate them when he comes to exact revenge …

To make matters even worse, about thirty seconds before the timer would go off and they could both declare this horrible episode as over, forgiven and forgotten, Dumbledore and McGonagall entered the room.

"Miss Granger, good to see you. Have you seen our Severus?" Dumbledore asked, with a slightly worried look on his face. McGonagall looked even more distraught.

Good. Hermione thought. At last they had noticed they were missing their charge. She didn't even need to say anything, as McGonagall's eyes had spotted her 'nephew' immediately.

"Why is Severus standing in the corner?" She asked. She wasn't angry, but confused. Hermione wondered if it was his first punishment since his de-ageing. But that would be impossible, no?

That moment the timer rang and Junior ran over, throwing himself at her. Dumbledore's eyebrow rose to astronomical heights and McGonagall smirked at the sight. Hermione couldn't care less: right there and then the tiny boy in her arms was the centre of her universe. Her focus was on him until he settled down again and could stand on his own two feet. His hand still grasped hers, but she let him.

"So, what happened here?" The Headmaster asked, his voice airily.

Hermione could kick him. Junior had only just calmed and here he was, stirring things up again.

"I played with a bouncy ball in the lab." He told his guardian with a small voice. "I'm sorry."

Thankfully Dumbledore didn't rub it in. Instead he ruffled Junior's hair and told him seriously: "That's all right. You made a mistake and you were punished for it. It's all good now."

Then he winked at Hermione above his head, so the boy couldn't see it. "I'm afraid it's my fault as well." He admitted to having found the ball in a corridor near Gryffindor Tower (Hermione silently cursed Ron) and thought that it couldn't do any harm. Technically, it hadn't, only Hermione's nerves had suffered.

"If you give it to me, I'll hand it to Mister Filch." Junior didn't even make a sound at the loss of his newest toy.

Hermione headed over to the book case where it had gotten stuck under. Then she hesitated. If she Accioed it, the ball might start to bounce again if she didn't caught it right away and she didn't feel like sticking her hand under an unknown cupboard. Who knows what else could be underneath? She decided that a small gust of wind would be enough to eject the ball from its hiding place.

"Vento." She whispered pointing her wand. Not one, but three items appeared. She grabbed the bouncy ball and stuffed the parchment and the tiny empty vial in her cloak's pocket. Perhaps the parchment was related to Snape's project. It looked empty, but she would have to check it later.

* * *

Hermione was near exhaustion. That day, Easter day, had been very hectic. She had risen at 6 and snuck over to Snape's chambers to meet with Dumbledore and McGonagall. Together they had snuck Junior to the Room of Requirement where he had had his very first Easter Egg Hunt and a picnic for lunch to end a perfect morning. The boy had been ecstatic, claiming it was his _very best day_ ever.

It had pained her to leave him, but she had promised her friends to spend the afternoon with them, after they had complained _again_ that they never saw her anymore. At first it hadn't been enjoyable: even though she complied with their wishes completely, they hadn't stopped complaining. This time it had been about the fact that Hermione wasn't planning on going to professor Slughorn's Easter Party.

They, as members of the Slug Club, had off course been invited. Hermione told them she still needed to brew several potions that night. It was a lie, because the Obscurus-potion could wait another night, but she had never liked the Professor who only concerned himself about those students he considered the best. Not even the fact that she had been chosen among those 'lucky few', could change her opinion that the man was a discriminating blowhard.

The boys had taken offence. They didn't want to go either and were quite miffed that Hermione had yet to attend one session of the Club with them. They conveniently forget that they too used every excuse in the book and even scheduled their Quidditch practices to clash with the meeting. Hermione didn't feel they had any upper moral ground.

Eventually Ginny had raised her voice and had reminder her brother and boyfriend (Harry had finally gotten his act together and had asked her out!) that Hermione hadn't joined them to be nagged at, but to enjoy herself after working so hard for the school and for .. she had whispered the last part: the Order.

Hermione had been dumbfounded: what did Ginny know? Luckily Ron had asked the question that burned on her tongue "The Order?" and it turned out Ginny had just meant nursing the Order's spy back to health.

After that the boys apologized and had been on their best behaviour for the rest of the afternoon. They too had planned a picnic, this time outside, near the lake. They had talked about everything and nothing and eventually they had played with a Frisbee that Hermione had Transfigured from a plate.

Dinnertime had come too soon and after the meal the others left to dress up and prepare them for an evening with Slughorn flattering their every move. Hermione had withdrawn into the lab and had worked hard. Very hard. Like she had done the entire week, every night after classes. It had been worth it.

Now, with the finished product in a cauldron before her, Hermione found that she couldn't care less about her aching muscles, her strained eyes and her headache. She had finished the most important project she had ever been assigned and it was perfect. Now she only needed to test if, to see if she was right.

She transfigured a pencil into a lab rat. Petting it on its head she silently apologized for what she was about to do. With a pipette she took a drop of her potion and forced it down its throat.

Excited she waited. And waited. And waited a little longer, until she finally admitted to herself nothing was going to happen. The only difference she could see was that the rat was now glaring at her. Or at least she thought so, she wasn't exactly sure if animals could glare. She sighed and turned the rat back into a pencil. She must have done something wrong… but what!

Hermione walked over to the container that kept the original potion. It looked exactly the same. She knew that appearances could be very deceiving with potions, but there could be no mistake. There were no other ingredients that could have gone into the potion, she had tested for all of them. If she had made a mistake with the preparation, the colour would be off. Even the consistency was exactly the same, signalling that she had used the correct heat during the brewing.

On a whim, she decided to test the first potion. She hadn't done this before, as she thought she already knew what the effect would be. The only potion in the room had been the freshly prepared de-aging brew.

A new pencil turned into a different rat. This one didn't change either. It very calmly cleaned it paws sitting contently on the desk. When Hermione came closer to Transfigure him back, it jumped up to bite her and scurried of. Knowing that her magic would wear of eventually, Hermione didn't trouble herself with chasing it. She could live with the loss of one of her pencils. This complete failure however would be harder to bear.

Disheartened by the events of the evening, she sunk onto a nearby bench, preparing herself to wallow in despair. A microsecond later she jumped up again however. Something had lodged itself between her thigh and the wood of the bench. She dug into the pocket of her robes, intent on getting the object out and cast a violent Reducto on it. Only when she saw what exactly had been in the way, her anger faded quickly.

She had forgotten all about what she had found earlier in the week underneath the closet: a vial and an old piece of parchment. Unfortunately the parchment remained empty, even after casting strong Revealing-spells, but perhaps the vial could still tell her something.

There was a tiny droplet left. Hermione stared at it as if it contained the secrets of the universe. It couldn't be the potion Snape had taken, because he had been found clutching a cup which had contained residue of the potion in the cauldron. Perhaps he had taken this one first and both potions had interacted with each other?

Hermione bit her lip as she realised how much more complicated the problem had become. If she started taking in account external factors, she would also have to explore spells and curses who could activate certain elements within a brew. She could be researching for years to come… unless this potion was the key.

She couldn't test it however, there wasn't enough left. She herself could recognise potions by colour and smell, but not in this tiny amount. With a sigh Hermione sat back down again. What she needed right now, was a trained Potions Master. And she knew exactly where to find one…

* * *

Hermione braced herself before entering the room, knowing she wouldn't enjoy sucking up to the Potion's master one bit. The party itself turned out to be exactly what she had expected: a pompous environment, decorated pompously and filled with pompous people. What was Prime Minister Scringemour doing in a school party? And why were there Quidditch players present?

Shaking her head, she decided to ignore the lot of them, she was here to see Slughorn and get right out again when she had her answers. To find him, she just needed to find the centre of everyone's attention. Surely he would attach himself to the persons close by.

To her surprise Harry had succeeded in not being it. Even though he had been going out with Ginny for a while now, he had invited Luna as his date. Ginny had in turn asked Neville, so the four of them could exchange partners again when they arrived. Hermione was proud of her friends for thinking of Luna and Neville. Both of them were fine persons as well, and they too had fought at the Ministry last year. The fact that Slughorn hadn't invited them for his club, just proved that Hermione was right about him.

Together with Ron and Lavender they had hidden themselves away in a corner. Ron, who had apparently been on a mission to find some of those fancy snacks – hors d'œuvres, she corrected him absentmindedly – had bumped into her and dragged her towards her friends.

"Hermione!" Harry greeted her with enthusiasm. "Have you finished your potions already?" His slightly raised eyebrow indicated that he suspected it had been just a ruse.

She grinned and held up the empty vial. "No, not yet, but I have stumbled upon a problem. I need Slughorn's help."

"Can't it wait?" Ron whined. Lavender meanwhile snuck closer to her boyfriend and grabbed his arm rather possessively. "We just managed to loose the old fart."

Hermione wanted to answer that no it couldn't wait and that he really shouldn't address his teachers as such, but Luna intervened.

"I love your dress, Hermione."

She felt her cheeks redden. When she realised she had to gatecrash this party, she had quickly transfigured her clothes into a simple blue dress. The only concession to style she had made, was to stop in one of the lavatories on the way over to comb her hair. Brewing was such a horror to hair care. When all this was over, she was going to develop a new conditioner for potioneers.

Hermione was saved from having to answer Luna by a sudden commotion. Filch had caught an intruder. It was Malfoy. Even though they all tried to eavesdrop, they couldn't hear the discussion that occurred between Slughorn and Dumbledore. Finally Dumbledore took Malfoy away.

Harry set out after them, only to be stopped by Ginny.

"Where do you think you're going?" Hermione thought her friend had never resembled her mother more than in that exact moment.

"I have to know what that pratt was doing here. He wasn't invited, that's for sure." He tried to pull himself free, but Ginny was a trained Chaser. She knew how keep hold of something when she wanted to.

"He's going with Dumbledore. Do you really want to spy on the Headmaster?" She retaliated. "Hermione, talk some sense into this one's head."

Hermione was in two minds. She agreed with Ginny, Dumbledore most likely had everything under control. Only… she also knew for a fact that Malfoy was the one after all these attacks. She didn't think he was courageous enough to fight Dumbledore in person, but as she had felt earlier, scared animals often lashed out in fear.

"Take this." She said, taking the Invisibility Cloak out of her bag. Harry had given it to her before, because he had been anxious to let her wander through the castle at nights. He thanked her and took off.

Ginny glared at her, while the others were determined not to intervene. It made for a very tense atmosphere and Hermione wished that there was a way that she could politely detach herself from her friends to go and find Professor Slughorn.

He found her. With Harry shoulder clasped firmly into his hand, he made his way over to the group.

"Finally I have found this wonderful group of students." He smiled broadly as Harry mouthed his apology. Apparently he hadn't been able to slip away fast enough to avoid Slughorn's starseeking eyes. Hermione just hoped Dumbledore would be all right.

"And the lovely Miss Hermione Granger have joined them. Now I understand why you've got yourselves hidden away. You don't want anyone else to share the company of this talented young lady." He let Harry go and he quickly rejoined his friends.

Hermione forced a smile on her face. She still needed him so it would be unwise to insult him. Thanks to Snape's journals she now had an endless supply of snide names to call him in her head. His favourite 'dunderhead' was only a very tame example.

"I'm only here to meet with you, Sir." She rummaged to her bag to find the vial. "I have a potions related question."

He stilled her arm. "Tut tut, my dear. This is a party. You can't talk about work at a party." Hermione blinked. And blinked again. Had he just ignored her?

"Now, I found young Harry whilst I was at the refreshment table looking for something savoury." He produced a bottle. "I have no idea how this bottle ended up on my table, probably an errant House-Elf, but it is a truly lovely vintage. A very rare bottle."

His eyes shone with mirth. Possibly greed.

"I should share this with the Headmaster, but as he is currently involved with one of your fellow students… Would you like to share this fine bottle with me?"

And now he was forcing alcohol down the throats of minors. No wonder Dumbledore didn't trust him. Her friends however, at least Ron and Harry, were very eager to try the wine. Ginny, Lavender and Luna refused. Neville only accepted after Hermione did. She hoped that her playing along would ply the old teacher into breaking on of his cardinal rules.

"I'd like to propose a toast…" He started. Hermione sighed inwardly. This could take a while. Ron, being himself, was less subtle. He rolled his eyes and gulped his drink down.

His face turned red immediately and then he dropped to the floor. He was unconscious.

"Oh dear." Slughorn started nervously. The students, in stark contrast, sprung into action. Lavender and Ginny knelt down to help Ron. Neville ran off to find matron Pomfrey and dragged Luna with him, telling her to go and find the Headmaster.

Harry turned to the Professor. "It's poison, professor! What do we do?"

"Oh dear." Was the only answer he got.

Hermione rolled her eyes at his indecisiveness, ignoring the fact that she too had been dumbfounded for a moment. If it was poison, Ron needed a bezoar and she had one in her bag.

By the time Neville had brought the matron over, Ron's face had regained it's normal colouring and his breathing had normalised. Madame Pomfrey scanned him with her wand.

"The bezoar is working. Good work, Miss Granger." She levitated him. "Please assist me to the Infirmary, Miss Weasley."

Lavender followed after them, but not before she hugged Hermione. "Thank you!" Hermione was dumbfounded by the action of her roommate who normally behaved very coolly towards her.

"Yes, Hermione. Thank you." Harry spoke. "How did you know to use that stone?"

"It's on the curriculum, Harry. A bezoar counteracts most common poisons." She knew her voice had taken a snide tone, but after the adrenaline of her discovery and Ron's near-death experience had passed away, the tiredness had invaded her body again. She sat herself down on a nearby chair.

"Yes, but why were you carrying one around?"

"Because she is brewing nearly every night. It is a wise precaution to take." Headmaster Dumbledore had re-entered the room with Luna and quickly entered the conversation.

He cleared his throat and then spoke loudly to the entire room: "I think it is time to call it a night."

The students recognised an order when it was given. Slughorn came out of his stupor on time to concur with the headmaster. While the Head Boy and Girl led all of the students out, he took care of his honoured guests. Hermione wanted to follow Neville and Luna to Gryffindor Tower, to her bed, but she was held up by the Headmaster.

"Please wait, Miss Granger. I would like an accurate account of what happened."

There wasn't that much to tell… Ron had fallen over after he had drunk the wine. They had assumed it was poisonous. Together they gathered the remainder of the wine. In all the commotion, several of the glasses had been spilled. The Headmaster asked her to start the tests in the classroom, until Slughorn could take over. Hermione felt like whining and stamping her foot, but knew that needed to identify the potion to see if Ron needed an another antidote.

"I do wonder how it got here." Dumbledore asked, holding the empty bottle. "This isn't one out of our cellars."

"It was Malfoy!" Harry immediately accused. He had been so quiet before, that Hermione had nearly forgotten he was still in the room.

She felt sorry for him. Harry was right, Malfoy showing up only seconds before a mystery bottle of wine is found? Off course it had been one of his attempts. He had assumed that Slughorn would have shared the bottle with the Headmaster, as it was such a rare vintage.

She also knew Dumbledore would never admit this to Harry. So she was very glad she had already turned her back on them as she was on her way to the class room. This way, she didn't have to defend either Harry or Dumbledore in the discussion she knew would follow.

The classroom was smaller than she remembered. She hadn't been in here since Mister Matthews had taught his disastrous lessons. She had gotten used to the larger and better lit private lab and once again hoped that grown up Snape wouldn't evict her. Testing and brewing in this depressing room wouldn't do, not anymore.

The tests was well on their way by the time Slughorn made his appearance together with Dumbledore. Three pair of hands made quick work of the testing and soon Dumbledore could send his Phoenix Patronus to tell Madame Pomfrey she shouldn't worry any longer. The bezoar had taken care of the venom that the attacker had used.

As far as murder attempts went, this too was rather easily countered. Hermione wondered if Malfoy's heart was really in it.

One o'clock had only just passed, but the exhaustion she had ignored before now reared its head again. She yawned and tried to excuse herself.

This time it was Slughorn who stopped her.

"Miss Granger, please wait. You wanted to ask me a question before. Perhaps now is a proper time." He chuckled nervously. "It's the least I can do for you this night."

Right! Hermione had nearly forgotten about it. "Can you tell me what this is?" She handed him the vial.

He opened the stopper and smelled the vial. "Ah yes, there is no mistaken this aroma. I remember the last time I took this quiet well…" He smiled nostalgically, but didn't finish his sentence. Hermione wasn't sure she wanted to know what events he was reminiscing.

"An extraordinary day…" He finally sighed.

"Yes, my dear friend," Dumbledore spoke, a bit impatiently, "But what is it exactly?"

The elder teacher stilled. "Felix Felicis, also known as…"

"Liquid luck!" Hermione finished the sentence. She knew the potion, off course, but the little drop left hadn't had the characteristic golden shine. She decided she wasn't going to hold it against herself. After all, who, but a true Potion's master could have recognised a potion from one little drop?

"Indeed. But I must ask you… were did you find this?" Slughorn had turned serious again, whilst he returned the vial to her. He had due cause to be worried. Although the potion wasn't illegal to brew, its use was restricted by several rules. If she told him she had found it near the Quidditch pitch, the Headmaster would have no choice but to start an investigation into the Quidditch teams. Use of Felix Felicis was banned in competitions, due to the advantage a team with a lucky player had.

She decided to tell the truth. Or at least part of it. "Oh, I brewed too much Pepper-up and was looking for more containers. I found this one in Professor Snape's lab, but was afraid to use it. I didn't know how it would react with another potion."

Slughorn turned into teacher modus and started rattling off interesting facts about the potion. Hermione tuned his voice out, she already knew the properties of the potion and that only the best of brewers could successfully. What she didn't know was why Snape had made it…

Her ears picked up Slughorn's doubt that Snape had made it himself, but ignored it. Off course the man had brewed it himself… the question was why. Off the top of her head, she could imagine several. He could have been ordered by Dumbledore to make it for him, to compensate for his health.

The Headmaster looked pensive himself, so that probably wasn't the case. Perhaps Voldemort ordered him to brew it, but she didn't think it likely that the Dark Lord would wait several month for Snape to brew something he could easily buy or steal. Snape most likely made it for himself, in order to be better prepared to face Voldemort…

Only her gut told her the fact the tiny bottle had been found near where little Snape had been found was significant. Somehow both facts were connected.

On cue she started listening to Slughorn's monologue. "Some brewers of old used to dose themselves before indigesting newly brewed potions." He snorted. "They probably hoped they would be lucky enough not to poison themselves…"

Hermione felt her jaw fall open. "But that is …"

"Completely irresponsible indeed!" The elder Potions Master agreed with her, nodding his head vehemently. "They didn't realise some ingredients linger in our bloodstream for hours!"

"Like the slight amount of Belladonna…" Hermione answered.

"Combined with another atropine in the next potion …" He paused dramatically. "Fatal overdose."

She nodded absentmindedly. In her mind she combined the ingredients of both potions, to see which ones could have effected the de-aging. She didn't get far.

"Perhaps it is time for Miss Granger to retire." The headmaster intervened. "It is getting rather late."

Slughorn acquiesced good naturedly, inviting Hermione to yet another Slug Club meeting. Dumbledore all but pushed her out. She wondered if he was tired too, normally he had more decorum than to shove his students. Then again, she was exhausted and didn't really care. She started dreaming of her bed, she could research this new information tomorrow, with a fresh head.

Then she noticed that they weren't heading in the direction of Gryffindor tower.

"Sir?" She asked. Response came in the form of a Mufflatio spell. A fresh burst of adrenaline rushed through her body. For him to use this spell in the hallways, the information she would receive, would be very important.

"Professor Slughorn is a dear friend of mine, but he has a blind spot the size of his successor." He spoke cryptically. Confused, Hermione could only raise one eyebrow, unwillingly mirroring said successor. Dumbledore smiled at the similarity.

"Horace likes to predict which students will be successful. For him to miss not only the youngest Potions Master in History but also the man who would replace him…"

Hermione could fill in the blank. By being somewhat successful, Snape was an unpleasant reminder for Slughorn that he couldn't collect every interesting student. It wasn't hard to see why Slughorn hadn't predicted Snape's succes. From what Junior told her about his family life and from what the grapevine (mostly Remus and Sirius) told her about his youth here at Hogwarts, Snape had been a poor Half-blood, sorted into Slytherin through shear determination. Stuck in a war with James Potter and Sirius Black, both potential heroes in the eyes of Slughorn, the Professor would have preferred to know the Gryffindor Golden Boys.

A spark of anger flashed through her as she realised that Slughorn had been his head of House at that time. He was in a perfect position to mentor Snape. Instead he had been smooching with students of other houses. Not that she didn't applaud inner-House cooperation, but to ignore your own students? That's just ridiculous

She suddenly wondered if that was why Snape so indiscriminately favoured his Snakes?

"Not only is Severus an excellent brewer who has made several batches of Felix Felicitis over the years, as a young scholar he also wrote a very interesting… Borage … set of historical articles on the use of it by medieval brewers."

They had arrived at her… no, Snape's potion's lab. A perfect gentlemen, Dumbledore let Hermione enter the room first. She entered and quickly turned back around to face him, eager to hear the rest of the story.

"One in particular is interesting for us today. The story of Aldrich Somerwell, who would have been the greatest brewer in history, if only his potions had worked after the first test. He never could replicate the effect of his tests."

He gave her a meaningful look and Hermione connected the dots. Snape had worked out those potions by knowing that Somerwell had drunk Felix Felicitis first and figuring out the possible combinations. So if he assumed that the creator of the Obscurus had drunk it as well, he had probably tried it out himself. He must have been really desperate to get the potion to work for him to use himself as a lab rat...

Dumbledore walked over to a blank wall. Before Hermione could wonder why, he muttered another password and a cupboard appeared. Dumbledore, who had clearly done this before, opened it and revealed a collection of potions.

Hermione recognized healing potions, antidotes and several strengthening potions. In the middle of it stood 3 small vials of Felix. Incredible!

"This is Severus' secret storage. I trust you will keep this secret as well." It wasn't a question.

Hermione wondered how she kept gathering Snape's secrets without meaning to. As she took more steps forward to finding the solution to his age-problem, she also ensured that he would like to kill her as soon as he was himself again. She didn't sigh, it wouldn't be constructive to do so.

Dumbledore picked up one of the vials and called on her to transfigure a handkerchief into a rabbit, giving her something else to concentrate on other that the possible future. "It will show the effects more clearly than with a lab rat." The Headmaster explained.

Hermione complied. It was obvious that she was still tired however, because her transformation didn't go exactly as planned. Instead of the perfectly shaped white bunny she had imagined, she created a large grey rabbit with shifty eyes. It missed its left upper paw.

This time Hermione did sigh. Curious as she was, she wondered if she could remain upright long enough to see the effects.

Dumbledore smiled indulgently at her. "It's still a rabbit. It will work." He gently lifted it and scratched it behind it's ears. To Hermione's relief, the bunny leaned into the touch, instead of trying to bite the headmaster's finger off. It looked quite ferocious.

With the vial in his other hand, the injured one, Dumbledore tipped a few drops of Felix in its mouth. Hermione accio'd a pipette, in order to measure a reasonable amount of the Obscurus. When the rabbit had been fed both potions, they waited.

They must have looked ridiculous, staring at a rabbit as intently as they were. Their patience was rewarded however, as they bunny changed right in front of them.

"But… " Hermione was incredulous. "It didn't rejuvenate!"

"No." The Headmaster's voice was hoarse. "This is much better, indeed." His eyes flickered between his own damaged hand and the bunny's newly restored paw. Hermione snapped out her reverie. She knew she should tread very carefully the next few seconds or the results could become disastrous.

The awe in his voice was unmistakable. "Severus has outdone himself… Such a powerful healing potion..."

Only it wasn't. A healing potion of this quality didn't exist, nor could it. Yes, there was Skelegrow that could mend and regrow bones. But you can't restore something that wasn't there before. This was something completely different.

She shook her head sadly but determined. It couldn't healing potion! There were ingredients that were also used in healing potions present, but the combination wasn't medicinal. Besides …

"Professor Snape wasn't cured. He was de-aged." The idea that he was suffering from some sort of genetic disease that manifested himself around his fifth life-year, was rather farfetched. Although it was an interesting idea however, circumventing an injury by de-aging the body…

"The Dark Mark perhaps?" He was grasping at straws and he knew it. Hermione didn't bother pointing out Snape probably didn't become a Death Eater until his puberty. It would be disrespectful to both Dumbledore's intelligence and Snape's history to do so.

"We need to research this more before drawing any conclusions." In her mind she mapped out the lines of investigation she wanted to pursue. First she would redo her research on all the ingredients to include the new ones and their combinations. Would there be literature about mixing potions in one's bloodstream? She also needed to test the potions again, to see if this was just an insulated event. Perhaps she could ask McGonagall to provide some of the Transfiguration mishaps her fellow students often created. If the potion can heal those, it can heal everything…

Meanwhile Dumbledore nodded slowly with a thoughtful look in his eyes. He seemed to be making a decision. Hermione watched him putting the rabbit on the table and Transfiguring it back into a handkerchief. Sure that he was about to suggest getting a goods night sleep first, Hermione started towards the door.

She turned back to see why the Headmaster wasn't following her, just in time to see him downing the rest of the vial. She managed not to scream in frustration, but a disgruntled noise did pass her lips.

"Research is an excellent thing, Miss Granger. In this case, I would like to have quick answers." He did not even look apologetically, only slightly excited. Hermione chalked the sudden return of the eye-twinkle up to the effects of the Felix Felicitis. Feeling wonder, she also saw that he suddenly looked healthier than before. She hadn't really noticed it before, because it had happened gradually, but there had been a steady decline of his health after his hand had been cursed. She was happy for him, but it didn't mean she agreed with him.

"You can't just drink an untested potion!" She really didn't want to deal with a four year old Headmaster. How was she going to explain that to McGonagall? And why did he think he would get a different result than Snape in the first place?

"It will be fine, Hermione." Hermione noticed that he switched to her first name again. He always did it when he wanted something from her. "I know what I am doing. Felix is telling me it will be fine."

Felix… That's right, she had read that the potion causes some people to get an inner voice that tells them the best course of action to take. Still, she had her doubts. Should she send a Patronus to McGonagall? Could her teacher even stop him?

"I know exactly how much to take." The Headmaster continued. Hermione didn't stand a chance and just watched as he swallowed a mouthful of the Obscurus.

The effect was instant. The twinkle in his eyes morphed into a doped out gaze. He stumbled and had to take a step back in order to grab the table. Failing that, he slumped down to the floor. Luckily he ended up in a sitting position, instead of spreading out unconscious.

Hermione rushed over. "Headmaster, Sir, are you all right?"

He didn't respond to her feverish calls, looking around confused as if he had never seen the environment before. Hermione was really worried, he hadn't changed physically yet, but he was definitely affected!

Hermione decided to take desperate measures. Grabbing him by the lapels of his robes, she shook him. Hard. It got his attention. His eyes tried to focus on her, she saw that his pupils were dilated.

Hermione realised that the Belladonna in the Felix mixed with the Mandrake essence in the Obscurus turned into hallucinogenic. The Headmaster was essentially tripping.

She closed her eyes and tried another approach. "Albus!" Part of her wanted to add 'You idiot" to that sentence, but she didn't think the Headmaster would appreciate it when he finally snapped out of this daze. Even though he had been an actual idiot not listening to her.

This time he responded better. "Yes?" He asked.

"Are you all right?"

It seemed to be a hard question, as he took his time to answer it. Finally he shook his head in the negative. He brought up his injured hand close to Hermione, who had let his robes go, but was still hovering above him.

"My hand hurts." It looked like he could burst out into tears any moment. Hermione felt incredibly uncomfortable, and not only because of the way the Headmaster was acting. He had pushed his hand underneath her nose. It didn't only look like it was already dead, it smelled like it too. Hermione's stomach turned over.

"I really wish it was better again…" The Headmaster sighed.

A gulf of raw magic engulfed them. The power of it, concentrated on the Headmaster and pushed Hermione back. She landed on her back several feet away, gliding over the floor until her head hit a nearby wall rather hard.

Her vision was blurry, but she very clearly saw a golden glow, rather like the gold of the Felix-potion, forming around Dumbledore's hand. It healed.

"Huh… I guess he was right." It was the last thing she could mumble before she passed out.


	5. Chapter 5 : War

Excited voices broke through Hermione's peaceful dreams about floating in the ocean.

With a soft groan she awoke. The bed was so soft and the linen smelt so good. Why couldn't they just let her be? Just as she was about beg her mother for _just a few more_ minutes, her logic caught up with her wooly thoughts and she realized she wasn't at home. After all, Harry and Ron wouldn't be there, arguing about chess…

Before she could wonder how they had gotten entry to the girls' dormitory, Matron Pomfrey's voice arrived, whispering madly "Mr. Potter, if the both of you can't behave, I will make you leave, visiting privileges or not! Miss Granger is still sleeping and she needs her rest!"

"I'm sorry, Madam Pomfrey," both boys simultaneously spoke. Hermione could almost see the sheepish looks on her two friends faces and smiled. "We'll be quiet."

"It's okay." She called out, "I'm up."

The curtains around her bed opened themselves, as the matron marched towards her.

"Do you see what you did, Mister Potter!" She called back with a glare. Harry and Ron ignored her, calling out to their friend: "Hermione!" "I'm so glad to see you!"

She waved to them, before refocusing her attention towards the person who was waving a wand above her body, taking her vitals.

"I feel fine." She protested. "My head hurts a little, but that's all, honestly."

"You are not fine." The matron snapped. "You have been working too many hours, and have been eating too little. You have exhausted yourself."

That was nonsense, Hermione knew. Yes, she had been working hard, but she had learned to pace herself, and she had taken care to show up to every meal, both to eat and to see her friends. She called out to them:

"Ron, Harry, that's not true. Tell her!" But to her surprise they didn't defend her. Ridiculous, she thought. Whatever had happened yesterday had been a one-time incident…

… and then she realized: she didn't have the slightest idea what had happened and how she had ended up here.

Harry noticed her distress and moved closer. He took her hand and explained: "Yesterday night, professor Dumbledore carried your unconscious body to the infirmary. He told us you had fainted and had bumped your head when you fell in the potions lab."

Snatches of memories returned to her: the vial with the unknown potion, her blue dress and Slughorn with the bottle of poisonous wine..

"Ron. Are you all right?" She turned towards the other bed, remembering the poisoning.

"Yes. Thanks to you." He blushed, his red cheeks clashing with his orange hair. "Harry told me about the bezoar. You saved my life, Hermione."

She blushed as well. "You would have done the same."

Harry snorted. "We didn't even know what a bezoar was until last night. I seriously doubt we were of any use last night." Hermione remembered how her friends had sprung into action last night, supporting Ron and spreading out to find help. She disagreed with his statement: they had been of much use, even if she hadn't been there with her bezoar, madam Pomfrey would have arrived in time to help Ron.

She didn't get the chance to argue with him. The matron shooed him out, claiming it was time for his Quidditch practice. Startled Hermione realized she had slept almost an entire day.

"And you will sleep a lot more, miss Granger. You are stuck to that bed for the next 48 hours." The matron added with a strict look, when Hermione voiced her surprise. "No homework, no research, only rest and relaxation for you!"

Ron snickered at her dismayed face. "Only you, Hermione, would pout at the thought of no homework." She glared at him; as if she just worried about her homework. But there was something in her memories, just out of her reach, that nagged at her about her research. She knew there was something she should be doing now. Something to do with the Headmaster…

Ron eventually coached her into a game of chess, which she predictably lost.

* * *

Later that night, when Ron had already fallen asleep, snoring, Hermione succeeding in gathering more pieces of her memory puzzle. The potion had been Felix Felicitas, and Snape had taken it in combination with the Obscurus. She and the Headmaster had tested it on an ugly bunny. Something had happened afterwards. That part was still blurry in her mind, but she was certain that she hadn't just fainted. It had to be more than that.

A soft sound made her look up. The Headmaster had entered the infirmary and was making his way over. Hermione straightened herself, and tried not to think about how ridiculous she must look in the standard infirmary nighties.

"Good evening, Miss Granger. I do apologize for not visiting earlier. How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, thank you." She answered truthfully. Once the headache had disappeared, with the help of a few potions, she had been feeling very well. "Miss Pomfrey told me I fainted, but…" She hoped that the Headmaster would tell her the truth.

"Ah yes, very unfortunate. I blame myself off course, for giving you too many duties." He spoke, sounding non too guilty, the lights in his eyes twinkling madly.

Hermione glared at him. She understood the need for secrecy, but couldn't he simply wave his wand and mutter the Mufflatio. Hadn't she earned the truth?

"Don't, worry, Miss Granger, you may return to your duties, after this, let's call it a short vacation, yes. You must take care of yourself, there are many friends who want to see you healthy."

He handed her a crayon drawing of two stick figures on green grass. The slightly larger one had brown curly hair, so she assumed that would be her. The smaller one had black hair. She smiled, before folding the paper in half and hiding it in one of the books Madam Pomfrey had allowed her to keep.

"I wouldn't dream of taking your duties away from you." Dumbledore continued. "Not when you are so very good in what you do."

Only then did she notice it. Dumbledore's hand, it had been healed! The last memories clicked into place; but that was impossible! All the arguments that she made the night before, came back: it wasn't a healing potion, Snape had been deaged, not healed, … She opened her mouth to argue, but the Headmaster placed his index finger on her lips. It smelled lightly of soap, and nothing of the decay that had nearly made her gag the night before.

"I believe Matron Pompfrey decreed 48 hours of rest and relaxation." He stated with a wink. When Hermione nodded, he removed his finger. "I promise we will discuss your duties further. Perhaps we can even find a new project for you, seeing your capabilities."

Hermione's earlier blush returned.

"But for now, let's keep this…" His arm made a wide gesture, as if he wanted to draw a circle round everything in the room, "our secret." He suddenly cradled the arm he had just used, like it hurt to even think about moving it. Before Hermione's eyes, it changed color, and then shape, until it looked like it had before.

Baffled, Hermione stared at her Headmaster. He simply winked at her, and strolled out the room, leaving Hermione to her thoughts.

Madman, she thought. Definitely brilliant, perhaps even genius, but madman nonetheless. She chuckled herself to sleep.

* * *

The next day she wasn't feeling half so generous towards the Headmaster. Apparently the Matron's decree of 48 hours of bed rest was to be taken very literally. The few trips to the bathroom that she had been allowed to make, had been the result of very long and hard-fought discussion. In the end the matron had caved, claiming that the arguing would even exhaust the poor, ridiculously stubborn, girl even more.

To add insult, Ron was forced out of his bed every hour for short walks to strengthen his constitution and to stimulate his blood circulation. Hermione could only watch him stumble about, supported by the tiny (they seemed to arrive shorter and shorter each year) first and second years, who had the misfortune of sharing the infirmary with them (Potions accident, toothache and prank gone terribly, terribly wrong). Even though none of them were Gryffindor, they all were star struck enough to help the famous Quidditch Keeper (and best friend of Harry Potter) out.

Their friends had been indoctrinated as well: none of them had brought books (even though Lavender had been considerate enough to bring the paper) or homework for her. She pointedly ignored the sweets they had brought, but rejoiced in their company and the idle school gossip they brought with them.

Only Harry seemed a bit off, always laughing a bit too late at the jokes and not really joining in. When the others left for dinner, he lingered. The reason for his nervousness was evident when he started talking sitting on the edge of Hermione's bed, speaking softly so the other patients wouldn't overhear.

"Dumbledore is taking me Horcrux-hunting tonight."

"Cool." Was Ron's immediate response. Hermione glared at him

Harry continued, ignoring their interaction. "It feels weird. Finally being able to join in, not standing at the sidelines anymore." He shrugged impishly. "I just hope I don't screw up."

"You won't mate. Just the fact that Dumbledore trusts you to take you with him says enough." Ron sat up straighter in his bed, so he could face Harry. His movements were still wobbly, but Hermione had seen his earlier attempts and was glad for it.

"He wouldn't just take you out on a whim."

Hermione pushed the memory of the overly competent, slightly high Dumbledore from the night before out of her mind. Surely he knew what he was doing... And newly healed he would be competent enough for the both of them, right?

She grabbed Harry's hand. "Just promise you'll be careful, all right?" In an attempt to make light of her own concerns, she added "Two of us in here is enough."

Even though the joke was feeble, it did the trick. The three of them started laughing and continued joking in the same vain, until Harry left for dinner.

"He'll be fine." Ron said, in a voice that told Hermione he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to comfort Hermione.

"Sure," Hermione answered. "He's with Dumbledore." She didn't add, _what could go wrong_.

* * *

A few hours later, all hell broke loose.

The sirens, that they had only heard during Shacklebolt's training sessions, sounded, creating a noise that reverberated through every inch of their bodies. Hermione and Ron looked at each other, sharing a look that was deadly serious. They knew, this was not a drill. Hogwarts was really under attack.

Ron stumbled out of bed. Hermione jumped out of her bed, and held him, just before he was about to collapse onto the ground.

"No Ron, you're not strong enough yet." With a few waves of her wand, she transfigured their clothes in something more appropriate than nightwear.

She could see him biting back the pain. "But I have to fight, Hermione."

Their teachers had been training them for emergencies like this. The fifth years were supposed to escort the lower forms to a safe place, warded with several spells and traps, hidden away somewhere in the Castle. Each House had his own place, that was secret for the others. The older years should follow, making sure the younger children arrived safely and weren't followed.

It had never been said explicitly, but Hermione and everyone else knew that this meant that the older students could choose to fight alongside the teachers. Which was what Ron was planning.

"Ron, please." Hearing the sobs of the younger students, she changed tactics. "We have to stay here, guard the infirmary. The others won't wait for us, we're too far away from the common rooms."

Ron looked at the three anxious faces and transfigured the nearby chair into a cane. "All right, you lot. Which one of you is the best in Charms, because I need someone to help me barricade the door."

"No." Hermione halted them, "Not the door, barricade yourself in Madame Pomfrey's office. We need to set up an…" Her mouth turned suddenly dry and she needed to swallow before she could speak the next words. "An emergency hospice for the victims."

"Our Hermione, always thinking of everything." Ron winked at her. "So, Brown and Maddows, right? Why don't you two push Professor's Snape bed into the office. And you, sorry you'll have to introduce yourself properly again later, make sure there's room for all of us in there."

Meanwhile, Madam Pomfrey flooed in and busied herself and Hermione into setting up the hospice. While Hermione collected the necessary equipment, potions and poultices, and set them up, within reach but behind a barrier that could withstand errant spells; Madam Pomfrey moved the furniture around so the only access to the hospice was a narrow pathway and so those who entered could not immediately see the treatment area, which was now hidden behind cupboards and privacy screens. They were relatively safe from those who would enter with violent intentions.

This was obviously not the first time Madame Pomfrey had been in this situation, Hermione noticed.

When the sirens calmed down, both women were ready. They could faintly hear the sound of fighting, still at a distance. Hermione felt her heart beating in her chest. Behind her, Ron's voice started to repeat the same words over and over again.

It took a few moments for Hermione to understand what he was doing. He was teaching them a simple shielding spell, whilst keeping their mind of their surroundings!

"Flick and swish. Yes, Brown, you've got it! Keep repeating it! You're doing great."

Too bad he was the youngest Weasley brother, Hermione thought, he would have made a greater older brother to more siblings than only Ginny.

A few minutes later he exited the room and moved towards them.

"They are behind the desk practicing their _umbrella shield_." He explained. "I've warded the room with the runes Bill taught me to protect my room from my two _brothers slash inventors_. No one but me or Ginny can enter that room." He turned towards Matron Pomfrey, grinning sheepishly. "I'm sorry, those are the only names I can spell with the runes."

She answered with lights in her eyes. "Am I correct in presuming that the same goes for exiting the room." Ron nodded. It was evident from his grin that that too had been included in his plan to keep the younger students safe. "Good show, Mister Weasley."

It was a huge compliment to receive from the usually even tempered matron. Ron's ears turned beet red, but he tried to shrug it off.

"I figured I could be of more use here."

His eyes scanned the room, taking in the changes. He pointed at the far end of the cupboard that protected the makeshift area. "I should guard that end?"

Matron Pomfrey nodded. "Petrify everyone who enters." At Ron's confused look she continued. "Friend or foe, Mister Weasley. This is war, appearances can be deceiving."

_Polyjuice. _Hermione wondered if Arman's disguise would last through the entire fight. Otherwise those students in there will be in for a surprise when they notice he's not who they thought he was.

Snape… Junior!

"Besides," Madame Pomfrey continued, "As a Nurse I treat all, not only who I choose to treat."

Hermione rose without thinking. Ron pulled her down. "What are you doing?" He hissed at her.

"I need to go." She tried to shake his arm off, but his grip was too strong.

"Are you insane? Walking right into a war!"

"I need to go." She stressed. "I just realized that they could be after…" She looked at Pomfrey, who looked equally worried, wondering how to explain the situation while keeping Ron in the dark.

"The potion Professor Snape was making before he became ill." The nurse filled in. "The potion Hermione was trying to finish." Finished, Hermione added in her thoughts.

Ron shook his head angrily. "I _knew_ there was something more going on than _just_ brewing for the infirmary."

"Now, Mister Weasley, I'll let you that every potion you have taken since you've been here is of her hand." Madam Pomfrey interjected.

"Off course. Because that's our Hermione. The overachiever." He still sounded bitter, but Hermione could tell he would forgive her. Certainly now when there were more important things to worry about.

"As much as it pains me to send a young girl out there…" Madam Pomfrey let her sentence trail of and handed her a first aid sling bag. "Send the wounded to us."

Ron understood and let reluctantly released Hermione's arm. "Just promise you'll be careful" He echoed her earlier sentence.

"You too." She whispered, terrified beyond belief.

* * *

It turned out to be much easier than she had expected to reach Snape's lab. The corridors were deserted; either the defenders had driven the attackers back outside, or – she didn't want to consider it- the attackers had forced their way deeper inside the castle.

"Borage." She whispered and was glad to find the lab intact. She continued downstairs.

"Junior!" She yelled out, fear and relief battling inside her, when she found an empty living room.

"Shh!" Miss Figg exited, wielding her umbrella like baseball bat. "I finally gotten him to sleep."

"We're under attack." Hermione told the elderly woman, incredulous that she would worry about bedtimes now.

"I've noticed the sirens." She deadpanned, but softened when she saw that Hermione was genuinely afraid. "The doors are heavily warded, by professor Dumbledore himself. No one but us knows the passwords. We're safe here."

"I'll stay here and protect you." Hermione said, gripping her wand.

As if it was timed, the bloodcurdling howl of a werewolf echoed through the castle halls.

"Greyback" Hermione whispered, shaking. If there had been any doubt in her that it weren't the Death Eaters, it had withered away by now.

"Your wand is needed elsewhere." Miss Figg gently pushed her towards the door.

"But I can't leave you here alone. It's not safe." Hermione balked at the idea of leaving them both defenseless.

"This is not my first war." Suddenly she released Hermione's arm, and pushed the umbrella into the air, as if she were to stab someone. Red fire exited through the top.

"Kwikspells." Hermione noted unnecessary. Miss Figg nodded.

"I will defend the boy's life with my own."

Hermione saw the other woman was deadly serious and nodded her assent.

"Go back upstairs, block the doorway and destroy the lab, so any passersby's will think it has already been raided and leave it."

"Thank you." Hermione hadn't thought of that.

"As I said, this is not my first war." The older woman said gravely.

As Hermione ascended the stairs, she softly heard her continue "Let's just hope it will be my last."

Back upstairs, Hermione raided the cupboards for anything that looked useful in battle. Then she thoroughly blasted the benches and the empty vials to create the scene they needed. She then pushed the cupboard in front of the door as an extra barrier, hoping, praying it would be enough to protect them.

Than she entered the hallway again and followed the noise, hoping against hope she would be of any use.

* * *

It didn't take before she found her first fight. In the hallway leading to the library Prof. Flitwick was dueling a Death Eater in full regalia. At their feet lay three students. Only Terry Boot was conscious, struggling to sit and stand up. His wand was out of his reach.

Hermione snuck closer, hid behind a pillar and only when she was absolutely sure she would hit her intended target she showed herself and "Stupify!"

"Miss Granger." Professor Flitwick looked surprised from her to the body that slumped down in front of him. "Not by the rules of a fair fight, but very effective." He gave her a small bow before petryfing the body.

Hermione bound and hid the unconscious man, so he wouldn't be woken up by one of his colleagues.

"You'll need to secure Jones as well, Granger" Terry spoke weakly, finally able to stand up, leaning against the wall. Flitwick handed him his wand.

Jones? A Hufflepuff? Hermione was shocked, but complied nevertheless.

"If Miss Abbott hadn't deflected the blast, Mr. Boot wouldn't be here to tell the tale." The small teacher gave Terry an encouraging pat on his lower back.

Terry coughed before spitting a wad of saliva mixed with blood on the floor. "Is Hannah all right," he asked with a hint of fear in his voice.

Training kicking in, Hermione checked her life signs, glad to find them strong. "She's fine. But she'll need to go to the infirmary though for the head wound."

"You'll need to go as well." Professor Flitwick told Terry Boot. "You're hurt."

"But we don't know if it's safe…" Terry started to protest. Even though his body was battered, it was clear he wanted to keep fighting.

"It's safe." Hermione countered the argument before he could make it. "Ron and Madame Pomfrey have secured it and I saw no one in the hallways between us and them."

"Now, Mr. Boot." Professor Flitwick ordered the reluctant boy. "Miss Abbott needs your help."

Terry gently lifted Hannah's body up with a Locomotor spell and left with a last glance at his Head of House.

"I suppose I can't persuade you to accompany them." Prof. Flitwick asked, focusing his glare on Hermione.

"My wand is needed elsewhere." Hermione repeated the words that had been spoken to her. She realized she sounded more self-assured then she felt.

"We'll be fighting Death Eaters."

"I've fought them before." The scar she received from Doholov itched, but she consciously kept herself from scratching it.

"They've brought a werewolf." He sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose before continuing. "This isn't a game. This is deadly serious."

Hermione decided it wasn't worth mentioning that she had already face a werewolf. She simple rummaged in her bag, found the vial she had brought with her and lobbed it towards her professor.

"What is this?" Her teacher asked surprised, confused by the lack of verbal response.

"It was an silver stirring spoon, dissolved in Horntail Acid."

Professor Flitwick grinned despite himself and shook his head several times as if he himself didn't believe what he was about to agree to.

* * *

They roamed the hallways together, trying to follow the sound of Greyback howling. They only stopped when meeting a wounded student or to Hermione's surprise Order Members, redirecting them to the infirmary. Hermione did hand out several healing potions, and in one occasion, Professor Flitwick spelled an empty armor suit to (carefully) drag an unconscious third year student towards madam Pomfrey.

"He should have been safely tucked away with the others." Flitwick commented angrily.

Hermione recognized him as Katie Bell's younger brother. "He wanted to fight."

"You're all too damn young to fight," he muttered beneath his breath.

They continued in silence. Eventually they found when the fight had been headed.

In the inner court yard several teachers and Order Members were battling the remaining Death Eaters. An exhausted Professor McGonagall noticed them and yelled "Greyback isn't with them."

An Auror added "I saw him and the Lestrange woman heading towards the Astronomy Tower."

Another howl pierced the night sky. Flitwick dragged Hermione off, towards their new target.

"But we need to help them." She protested, gesturing towards the battle.

Determined her teacher answered, "They can handle themselves. Whatever the intended target is, it isn't here."

She nearly had time to wonder what the intended target could be, when they arrived at the tower.

Tonks and Bill Weasley were defending the staircase with their lives. Unfortunately, it seemed like they were about to pay for the defense with said lives.

Flitwick attacked immediately, sheltering the fallen Auror by floating a rather large piece of rubble in front of Bellatrix's Cruciatus Spell.

"What's the matter, little niece, need your tiny-tiny teacher to bail you out?" the mad woman cackled, trying to bait her opponents.

Tonks merely gritted her teeth before jumping upright and lobbing a spell towards her dear aunt.

Meanwhile Greyback had taking advantage of the confusion caused by their arrival and surged the oldest Weasley brother, clawing at him until he no longer fought back and slumped to the floor. The werewolf reveled in the blood and celebrated by unleashing yet another bloodcurdling howl.

Hermione, who had frozen the moment they had arrived from the sight of blood, was pushed literally into action by her teacher, who ripped her bag from her shoulder and told her "to fight" _or did she want to die here_. With a last glance towards the red-haired man who looked so much like her best friend, she cast her first spell towards the woman who had killed Sirius Black almost a year ago.

Her attempt was easily neutralized, and caused Bellatrix Lestrange to go into another laughing tirade against Mudbloods and Bloodtraitors. Neither women paid much attention to it, they had all heard the insults before, and fought to the best of their abilities. Hermione's spells proved to be nothing more than a mere nuisance to the Death Eater; every one of them were simply waved away.

'_Wandless magic'_, a stray thought passed through Hermione's adrenaline rushed brain, _'must learn to cast wandless magic'_

Although Hermione didn't manage to cause any damage, she did force Bellatrix to defend herself on two fronts, giving Tonks the breathing space she needed to stand her own against her formidable adversary.

Unfortunately, as it often goes for the weakest link in any fight, Hermione soon got hit by a spell, that tore right through her defensive shield. As she fell down, she felt, rather than saw Tonks shielding her body by moving in front of her.

Her mind flickered in and out of consciousness. The sounds that buzzed around the room, laughter and screaming and howling in pain, frightened her and the cold from the floor seeped into her body. She felt sick, wanted to throw up and scream at the world to stop it. But her body failed to listen.

Suddenly it all just stopped, and she heard a gentle voice telling her it would all be fine.

_Harry?_

The world faded to black.


	6. Chapter 6 : the end is nigh

**Notes:**

More than two years ago, I was unemployed and full of ideas. The ideas are still here, but time is lacking: a new job, new hobbies and a new home (still under construction). So yeah… gotten a bit side-tracked. But I've got a new mantra: "I will finish this fic". And I will, someday…

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**Chapter Six: the end of brewing and babysitting? **

The next morning Hermione woke up in the infirmary – again. This time however, the place was abuzz with activity: red and white robes fluttering between many occupied beds. Her gasp alarmed those around her she was awake. An Auror quickly appeared by her side, set on figuring out what had happened the night before. After a few questions – Hermione cautiously downplaying her own actions in the fight – Madame Pomfrey chased him off, in order to cast the necessary diagnostic spells and to assure her that – save a few seriously wounded Order Members – no one but Greyback was in mortal danger. Most of the students would be out of the infirmary within a few days.

Relieved, but still anxious, Hermione decided to use her newly acquired diagnosis of '_bruised but not broken_' as a ticket out of the infirmary and into the Potion's Lab where her help would be much appreciated. For all she enjoyed brewing medicine, the actual smell and sight of blood bothered her, especially when she recognized almost every face in the beds around her.

Before she joined Professor Slughorn, shelevitated Ron's unconscious body from the chair next to her bed onto it. She also snuck in a quick visit to Junior, needing to assure herself he was fine. Miss Figg insisted on having breakfast together, pouring her a strong cup of tea and then smothering it underneath a pile of sugar. Junior had apparently slept peacefully the entire night, blissfully unaware of what had happened a few floors above his head.

She was only one of many helpers in Professor Slughorn's lab; several apothecaries, including Mr. Matthews, had flood in to help. As a student, Hermione was only entrusted menial tasks, like cutting ingredients and cleaning vials. She didn't mind, the work kept her hands busy and her mind occupied.

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Somehow they all managed to get through the next couple of days. Life quickly resumed its course, much sooner than Hermione expected. Within the week lessons had started up again, and with them all her other obligations like brewing and babysitting. The only exception being Harry spending more time with Professor Dumbledore and as a consequence less with her and Ron, although he tried his best to keep them in the loop.

"It's weird, right?" Ron spoke, echoing her thoughts. Hermione had suggested to use their free period for a walk on the grounds. Fresh air would help Ron heal and frankly Hermione couldn't care less about their latest homework tasks.

"The way the teachers act, it's like it never happened. Or as if it was just a practice run," Ron continued, his voice taking on a sarcastic tone, "Judging by the amount of people that got hurt, we sure failed that test."

For the first time Hermione realised that by staying in the infirmary and helping with the triage, Ron had seen every victim. Including herself and his own older brother...

"How is Bill?" she asked.

Ron shrugged. "He'll be home from Mungo's soon. Physically, he'll be fine." From what Hermione had heard, Greyback – realising he was outnumbered – had tried to flee. Bill had unfortunately blocked his exit-route and had been paid for it by being tackled against a wall. Result: a concussion, several broken ribs and a bite to the neck.

"Remus is pretty sure he won't change,' Ron continued, "but I don't think Bill or Fleur will be able to sleep peacefully until after the next full moon."

He sat down and motioned her to join him on the grass. After a few furtive looks around he continued the conversation. Hermione realised he had led them to the farthest corner of the great lawn, to a spot where they could speak privately. She decided that next time the three of them were together, she would teach them the Mufflatio-spell. Although it was a spell she had only seen professor Dumbledore use, she had found the instructions in Professor Snape's notes.

Ron confided in her: "They told us this morning that Greyback died. And all I could think was: Good!"

"He hurt your brother. He hurt a lot of people," Hermione offered. "It's normal to feel relieved."

Ron looked at the ground, but continued talking: "They brought him to the infirmary that night. The Healers, who took forever to arrive, were already working on Bill, so Madam Pomfrey started on _him_. I'd seen Bill's wound, Hermione. I knew what that monster had done. So when I saw him lying there… I realised it would be so _easy_…"

Hermione took his hand and gave it a squeeze. "You didn't. You're a good man, Ronald Weasley. Don't even think otherwise."

Ron turned back towards her, smiling sheepishly at the compliment. "Then Harry arrived, carrying you. For I moment I thought… but you were ok, just knocked out."

It was his turn to squeeze her hand. Without thinking on it, they kept their hands linked together and both enjoyed a moment of peace. Then Hermione realised something: Greyback was dead. And she…

"Ron, Greyback's death. Was it because of a spell? Or?"

"They said something about silver poisoning."

A cry escaped her mouth. She pulled her hand free and covered her face. O dear god, what had she done!

Ron was instantly worried: "Hermione, what's wrong?"

"I.. I'm the one that gave Professor Flitwick a silver-infused potion."

Despite the soft weather, Hermione felt chilled. One of her actions had led to the death of a man, however despicable that man be. She honestly didn't know how to feel about it.

"I didn't even think about it," she tried to explain, "I was collecting first-aid potions, when I heard his roar. So I just grabbed the potion that I knew could stop him." Like writing down the correct answer during a test: use weapon A to defeat creature B… Only, this was real life. And someone was really dead.

Ron gently took her hands in his own, forcing her to look at him as he spoke: "Hermione, you did the right thing. He was dangerous, he liked hurting people for fun. Who knows what could have happened, if you hadn't given Flitwick the best tool to fight him. Maybe he would have killed Bill. Maybe he would have gone after you next."

Ron was right. She might have brought a deadly weapon into the fight, but she hadn't been the one to make the fight deadly. Greyback and Bellatrix Lestrange hadn't been pulling their punches either, she had been rather lucky to escape with just a few bruises.

A bell rang in the distance. The signal for the next class.

"Ah," Ron said grimly, "the show must go on." But before getting back to his feet, he gave her questioning look.

"I'm ok, thank you, Ron." Hermione flashed him a quick smile. She hoped it conveyed the message, that she might not completely fine at the moment, but she would be.

As they walked together towards the Castle in companionable silence, both youngsters took the time to mull over what had been said.

"So, Snape just happened to have a silver infused potion laying around in his lab?" Ron questioned.

Hermione smiled, she could guess where the line of questioning was going. "Yes, close to the Wolfsbane he brews for Remus."

Ron shook his head: "Paranoid git."

She slapped his thigh whilst keeping up the pace, but didn't speak. It would hardly be fair to chastise him for having the same thought she had had when she first discovered the potions together.

"Remind me to thank him when he wakes up." While said in jest, Hermione had the feeling he meant it.

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With a rather heavy heart, Hermione let herself drop in the comfy green chaise. After the latest failed experiment, Professor Dumbledore had sent her downstairs to join Professor McGonagall whilst he cleared the lab.

Her favourite professor was already pouring her a cup of tea. "You know, we really shouldn't have made ourselves so at home here," she started the conversation, "When our Severus is back, I seriously doubt he'll appreciate us having most of our meetings here."

Hermione winced. Judging on how their tests were going, they wouldn't have to start fearing his response any time soon.

"That bad, then?"

"We can't replicate the initial effect. Every rabbit we've tested so far has had a different reaction to the potions. The last one even disappeared before our eyes, like it could disaperrate."

The most spectacular change had been the rabbit that had grown as large as the room and had bared his humongous sharp teeth at them. Luckily the Headmaster had been quicker on his feet than Hermione - who had just stared at the creature - and had transfigured it back. The Headmasters office now had a new fluffy carpet.

"I'm afraid there is even worse news, Minerva," Professor Dumbledore had joined them, "Severus's supply of Felix is now so low, we can't risk resuming the testing without having a better idea as to why we are failing."

In a stark contrast to his dour words, he playfully juggled three sugar cubes before dropping them in his own cup of tea. Only Hermione and Professor McGonagall knew the truth about his now healed hand, which tented to be used frequently and excessively in the few hours it didn't have to be glamoured.

Hermione was rather impressed with his acting skills, even though she now knew a few of his other tics were acts as well. As far as the entire world was concerned his health was deteriorating quickly. Even the boys had expressed their worries several times after seeing his blackened hand.

"I'm truly sorry, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall spoke, "I wish things were different."

_Wish. _Hermione froze. As if she had been thrust headfirst in a pensieve, she suddenly relived a memory. The voice of a doped out Headmaster echoed in her ears: _I really wish it was better again…_

She addressed him at once: "You wished for your hand to get better."

Professor Dumbledore offered her a head tilt combined with a grandiose smile. If he had been a few decades younger, Hermione suspected he would have given her an eye roll with an emphatic _duh. _Hermione shook her head, trying to regroup her thoughts in order to explain them more clearly.

"When you drank the potion, you looked at your hand and commented on the pain. You then explicitly _wished_ for it to heal. I believe your magic and the magic in the potion combined, made your wish happen. The same thing happened to the rabbit that night."

"The _rabbit_ made a wish?" Professor McGonagall sounded none to convinced.

Professor Dumbledore however nodded thoughtfully: "It missed a paw and was probably in pain. Healing would have been an instinctual act_._"

It was suddenly all very clear in her mind. The puzzle they had been working on for months finally clicked into place. It felt glorious! "And the other reactions we witnessed basically amounted to fight-or-flight responses!"

"I believe you are right, Miss Granger. The combination of the potions channels the magic of the wizard that drinks them. A very powerful potion indeed!"

Professor McGonagall huffed and noted: "Powerful, perhaps, but not very precise. Or have you forgotten Severus's wish? He lost a more than a few memories!"

But Professor Dumbledore was now too fully invested in the theory and quickly formulated a hypothesis: "Felix Felicitas is also known for making the partaker self-indulgent and overconfident…"

"…don't forget the combination with the Mandrake Essence in the Obscurus ," Hermione interjected, remembering the intoxicated Headmaster.

"…so it is very well possible Severus drank the potion planning on forgetting, but Felix helped him formulate another wish."

Hermione, who's mind had started to wonder what she would wish for, suddenly realised it would be impossible to test their theory. They could never predict what the test subject – be it animal or human – would wish for under the influence of the combined potions. It would be risky to say the least: what if someone was in so much pain, he simply wished to die? That also meant…

It seemed that Headmaster had come to the same conclusion: they simultaneously slumped back in to their seats.

"What?" Professor McGonagall was confused by their sudden change in attitude.

Hermione swallowed, but it was Professor Dumbledore that broke the unpleasant news: "In order for Severus to grow back into his old self, young Severus will have to make the right wish."

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Hermione hesitated when she stood before the Room of Requirement. For the first time in her life she wished she had been a less studious child and had pleaded with her parents to go to Disneyland or some amusement park like most other children. As it was – most likely – Junior's last night as a child, she really wanted this trip to be enjoyable for him – and more selfishly memorable for herself.

Just when she wanted to ask professor McGonagall, again her partner in crime for this semi-authorised outing, for input the door appeared for their eyes.

The look of absolute awe on Junior's face, was matched by her own when they saw what the room had created for them. A red carpet was stretched out before them and led into a meadow where a picnic-area had been set up. Around it stood several childproof attractions, like a carrousel with wooden horses, kites waiting to be flown and a knock-over-the-cans-booth.

It did look a bit dated – perhaps Professor McGonagall did offer up some ideas. The whole seemed … a tad Mary Poppinsy actually. But Junior seemed to love it.

Hermione's professor, carrying a packed picnic-basket, entered the room first.

"Well, don't just stand there," she called back at them, "let's find out if the Elves graced us with their superb cucumber sandwiches!"

Junior lasted exactly one sandwich and a polite sip of juice, before he wanted to try out the activities. Hermione happily let her be dragged from booth to booth, often cheating to let her little friend win. An absolute success was the miniature petting zoo, the small animals all bundled up to Junior seemingly begging to be hugged by him.

Unfortunately the little rabbits reminded Hermione of what was yet to come. She told Junior she was going to join his Aunt on the picnic blanket, but that he was feel to stay as long as he wished. They could keep an eye on him from where they were seated and she was pretty sure everything the Room had provided was perfectly safe.

When she sat down, her teacher took one look at her face and gently spoke to her: "You're troubled."

Hermione just nodded. It was hard to explain what bothered her. She had always know this - turning Snape into his own self - was going to be the endgame. So why did it feel so wrong?

"Not many people get a second change at their childhood. In that regard, perhaps we should consider him a lucky man." As often, her Head of House quite accurately guessed what was going on in her mind.

Hermione knew a few people whose childhood could do with a repeat: Harry, Neville, Sirius, … They all deserved more caring families and a more carefree youth and adolescence.

"It doesn't change his future however." Perhaps that was where the rub lay. Hermione knew they were condemning him to return to his servitude to Voldemort. If they had truly changed his childhood, his adolescence and his adult life would most likely be different as well. Perhaps he wouldn't have been a Death Eater. It was a very sobering thought. Before she had seen them all as pure evil. But how many had been made into the men they were now?

"Mrs. Malfoy has given us her memory of the Unbreakable Vow. We are certain the wording of the vow offers some possibilities." Also true to form, professor McGonagall used a very narrow definition of what Hermione had pointed out was wrong. And she was right, off course. The first thing to be worried about was whether or not professor Snape was going to die because of the unfulfilled oath he took.

Harry had already told them how a guilt-ridden Malfoy had broken down when holding the Headmaster at wand-point. He had been unable to kill him and so Dumbledore had convinced him to surrender and even to switch sides. He in turn had convinced his mother to leave Malfoy Manor, where the Death Eaters had gathered around Voldemort.

Professor McGonagall continued: "And if there is no other way, Albus will allow himself to be poisoned with one of Severus' brews. Buying us all some time."

Ah, yes. Let's not forget the manipulations of their dear Headmaster. He too had his plans for his spy. And he was going to make sure he was going to get what he wanted. The next day he was going to tell Junior the truth. Or at least a highly edited version of it. He would convince him to take the potion and would gently guide him through it with the use of Legilimency. Hermione had already refused to be part of it, knowing she wouldn't be able to see it through. She would say her goodbyes that night.

Junior took that moment to join them, prompting his _Aunt_ to break out the cake. Somehow Hermione managed to put up a brave face and enjoy herself. Luckily Junior's enthusiasm was catching. They finished their _bestest afternoon ever_ with a ride in the Ferris Wheel.

That night she gave him a big _sleep-tight_ hug and told him to be good and that she would see him soon.

Then, trying to ignore the lump in her throat, she went upstairs and spent the rest of the night clearing the lab that had gradually become a second home to her. She was pretty sure Professor Snape wouldn't like to share as much as Junior had.

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**Notes of the author: **

Yes, rabbits have dreams and wishes too… One peculiar rabbit turned blue with pink dots. Then again he had been transfigured out of one of Dumbledore's more colourful handkerchiefs…

The wording of the Unbreakable vow: _"Should it proof _necessary_… if it seems Draco will _fail_… will you carry out the deed that the Dark Lord has ordered Draco to perform?"._ There are several ways to explain this away (fanwanking, it is an art). The first is the emphasis on _necessary_: by the time he wakes up it is no longer a pressing matter. Emphasis on _fail: _by refusing to kill him and joining the Order, Draco does not fail but reject his orders. Most importantly: the vow also doesn't provide a strict time schedule. As long as Snape eventually kills Dumbledore, he fulfils the order Voldemort has given Draco.

An epilogue with all-grown-up Severus (and bonus Crooks) will follow shortly.

I repeat my manta: I will finish this fic, I will finish this fic…


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